WHY   LINCOLN 
LAUGHED 


BOOKS  BY 
RUSSELL  H.  CONWELL 

WHY  LINCOLN  LAUGHED 

EFFECTIVE  PRAYER 

ACRES  OF  DIAMONDS. 

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HARPER  &  BROTHERS,   NEW  YORK 
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ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 


WHY 
LINCOLN  LAUGHED 

By 
RUSSELL  H.  CONWELL 


Author  of 
"ACRES  OF  DIAMONDS' 


Harper  &  Brothers  Publishers 

New  York  and  London 

MCMXXII 


WHY  LINCOLN  LAUGHED 


Copyright,  1922,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 
Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


A-w 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  FAOB 

FOREWORD 9  vii 

I.  WHEN  LINCOLN  WAS  LAUGHED  AT  .  1 

II.  PRESIDENT  AND  PILGRIM   ....  24 

III.  LINCOLN     READS    ARTEMUS     WARD 

ALOUD 38 

IV.  SOME  LINCOLN  ANECDOTES     ...  51 

V.  WHAT  MADE  HIM  LAUGH  ....  64 

VI.  HUMOR  IN  THE  POLITICAL  SITUATION  82 

VII.  WHY  LINCOLN  LOVED  LAUGHTER      .  115 

VIII.  LINCOLN  AND  JOHN  BROWN    .  127 


4831! 


FOREWORD 

ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  wrote  to  his  law  part 
ner,  William  Henry  Herndon,  that  "the 
physical  side  of  Niagara  Falls  is  really  a 
very  small  part  of  that  world's  wonder.  Its 
power  to  excite  reflection  and  emotion  is 
its  great  charm."  That  statement  might 
fittingly  be  applied  to  Lincoln  himself. 
One  who  lived  in  his  time,  and  who  has 
read  the  thousand  books  they  say  have 
been  written  about  him  in  the  half  century 
since  his  death,  may  still  be  dissatisfied 
with  every  description  of  his  personality 
and  with  every  analysis  of  his  character. 
He  was  human,  and  yet  in  some  mysteri 
ous  degree  superhuman.  Nothing  in 
philosophy,  magic,  superstition,  or  relig 
ion  furnishes  a  satisfactory  explanation  to 
the  thoughtful  devotee  for  the  inspiration 
he  gave  out  or  for  the  transfiguring  glow 
[vii] 


Foreword 

which  at  times  seemed  to  illumine  his 
homely  frame  and  awkward  gestures. 

The  libraries  are  stocked  with  books 
about  Lincoln,  written  by  historians, 
poets,  statesmen,  relatives,  and  political 
associates.  Why  cumber  the  shelf  with 
another  sketch? 

The  answer  to  that  reasonable  question 
is  in  the  expressed  hope  that  great  thinkers 
and  sincere  humanitarians  may  not  give 
up  the  task  of  attempting  to  set  before  the 
people  the  true  Lincoln.  One  turns  away 
from  every  volume,  saying,  "I  am  not  yet 
acquainted  with  that  great  man."  Hence, 
books  like  this  simple  tale  may  help  to 
keep  the  attention  of  readers  and  writers 
upon  this  powerful  character  until  at  last 
some  clear  and  satisfactory  portrayal  may 
be  had  by  the  interested  readers  among 
all  nations. 

Neither  bronze  nor  canvas  nor  marble 

can  give  the  true  image.    Perhaps  the  more 

exact  the  portrait  or  statue  in  respect  to 

his  physical  appearance  the  less  it  will 

[  viii  ] 


Foreword 

exhibit  the  real  personality.  All  pictures 
of  Abraham  Lincoln  fail  to  represent  the 
man  as  he  was.  The  appearance  and  the 
reality  are  at  irreconcilable  variance. 

Heredity  may  be  a  large  factor  in  the 
making  of  some  great  men,  and  education 
may  be  the  chief  cause  for  the  influence  of 
other  great  men.  But  there  are  only  a  few 
great  characters  in  whose  lives  both  of 
those  advantages  are  lost  to  sight  in  the 
view  of  their  achievements. 

Genius  is  often  defined  with  complacent 
assurance  as  the  ability  and  disposition  to 
do  hard  work.  That  is  frequently  the  truth; 
but  it  is  not  always  the  truth.  Abraham 
Lincoln  did  much  of  many  kinds  of  hard 
work,  but  that  does  not  account  for  his 
extraordinary  genius.  He  had  the  least  to 
boast  of  in  his  family  inheritance.  His 
school  education  was  of  the  most  meager 
kind,  and  he  had  more  than  his  share  of 
hard  luck.  His  most  difficult  task  was  to 
overcome  his  awkward  manners  and  un 
gainly  physique.  His  life,  therefore,  pre- 


Foreword 

sents  a  problem  worthy  the  attention  of 
philanthropic  scientists. 

Can  he  be  successfully  imitated?  Why 
did  his  laugh  vibrate  so  far,  and  why  was 
his  humor  so  inimitable?  If  the  sugges 
tions  made  in  this  book  will  aid  the  inves 
tigator  in  finding  an  answer  to  these  ques 
tions  it  will  justify  the  venturesomeness  of 
this  volume  in  appearing  upon  the  shelf 
with  such  a  great  company  of  the  works 
of  greater  authors. 

RUSSELL  H.  CONWELL. 

PHILADELPHIA,  January ;  1922. 


WHY  LINCOLN 
LAUGHED 


WHY    LINCOLN 
LAUGHED 


Chapter  I:   When  Lincoln  Was 
Laughed  At 

LINCOLN  loved  laughter;   he  loved 
to  laugh  himself  and  he  liked  to 
hear  others  laugh.     All  who  knew 
him,  all  who  have  written  of  him,  from 
John  Hay,  years  ago,  to  Harvey  O'Higgins 
in  his  recent  work,  tell  how,  in  the  darkest 
moments  our   country   has   ever  known, 
Lincoln  would  find  time  to  illustrate  his 
arguments  and  make  his  points  by  nar 
rating  some  amusing  story.     His  humor 
never  failed  him,  and  through  its  help  he 
was  able  to  bear  his  great  burden. 
I  first  met  Lincoln  at  the  White  House 
HI 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

during  the  Civil  War.  To-day  it  seems 
almost  impossible  that  I  shook  his  hand, 
heard  his  voice,  and  watched  him  as  he 
laughed  at  one  of  his  own  stories  and  at 
the  writings  of  Artemus  Ward,  of  which 
he  was  so  fond.  Yet,  as  I  remember  it, 
I  did  not  feel  at  that  time  that  I  was  in 
the  presence  of  a  personality  so  extraor 
dinary  that  it  would  fascinate  men  for 
centuries  to  come.  I  was  a  young  man, 
and  it  was  war  time;  perhaps  that  is  the 
reason.  On  the  contrary,  he  seemed  a 
very  simple  man,  as  all  great  men  are — 
I  might  almost  say  ordinary,  throwing  his 
long  leg  over  the  arm  of  the  chair  and 
using  such  commonplace,  homely  language. 
Indeed,  it  was  hard  to  be  awed  in  the 
presence  of  Lincoln;  he  seemed  so  ap 
proachable,  so  human,  simple,  and  genial. 
Did  he  use  his  humor  to  disarm  opposi 
tion,  to  gain  good  will,  or  to  throw 
a  mantle  around  his  own  melancholy 
thoughts?  Did  he  believe,  as  Mark 
Twain  said,  that  "Everything  human  is 


When  Lincoln  Was  Laughed  At 

pathetic;  the  secret  source  of  humor  is 
not  joy,  but  sorrow?"  I  am  sure  I  cannot 
say.  I  only  know  that  humor  to  Lincoln 
seemed  to  be  a  safety  valve  without  which 
he  would  have  collapsed  under  the  crush 
ing  burden  which  he  carried  during  the 
Civil  War. 

Until  he  was  twenty-four  and  was  ad 
mitted  to  the  bar,  he  was  a  quiet,  serious, 
brooding  young  fellow,  but  apparently  he 
discovered  the  effectiveness  of  humor,  for 
he  began  using  it  when  he  was  arguing 
before  the  court.  Some  of  his  contempo 
raries  say  that  he  was  humorous  in  the 
early  part  of  his  life,  but  that,  as  time 
went  on  and  he  gained  confidence  through 
success,  he  used  humor  less  and  less  in  his 
public  utterances.  This  is  partly  true,  for 
there  is  no  trace  of  humor  in  his  presi 
dential  addresses.  But  that  he  was 
humorous  in  his  daily  life  and  that  he 
continued  to  read  and  laugh  over  the 
many  jokes  he  read  is  too  obvious  to  deny. 
You  cannot  think  of  Lincoln  without  think- 

m 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

ing  at  the  same  time  of  that  very  American 
trait  which  he  possessed  and  which  seems 
to  spring  from  and  within  the  soil  of  the 
land — homely  humor. 

One  day  when  I  was  at  the  White  House 
in  conversation  with  Lincoln  a  man 
bustled  in  self-importantly  and  whispered 
something  to  him.  As  the  man  left  the 
room  Lincoln  turned  to  me  and  smiled. 

"He  tells  me  that  twelve  thousand  of 
Lee's  soldiers  have  just  been  captured," 
Lincoln  said.  "But  that  doesn't  mean 
anything;  he's  the  biggest  liar  in  Wash 
ington.  You  can't  believe  a  word  he  says. 
He  reminds  me  of  an  old  fisherman  I  used 
to  know  who  got  such  a  reputation  for 
stretching  the  truth  that  he  bought  a  pair 
of  scales  and  insisted  on  weighing  every 
fish  in  the  presence  of  witnesses. 

"One  day  a  baby  was  born  next  door, 
and  the  doctor  borrowed  the  fisherman's 
scales  to  weigh  the  baby,  ft  weighed 
forty-seven  pounds." 

Lincoln  threw  back  his  head  and 
[4] 


When  Lincoln  Was  Laughed  At 

laughed;  so  did  I.  It  was  a  good  story. 
Now  what  do  you  think  of  this?  Only 
recently  I  picked  up  a  newspaper  and 
read  that  same  Lincoln  anecdote,  and  it 
was  headed,  "A  New  Story." 

It  was  in  connection  with  a  death  sen 
tence  that  I  first  went  to  call  upon  Presi 
dent  Lincoln.  This  was  in  December, 
1864.  I  was  a  captain  then  in  a  Massa 
chusetts  regiment  brigaded  with  other 
regiments  for  the  work  of  the  North  Caro 
lina  coast  defense,  under  command  of  Gen. 
Benjamin  F.  Butler.  A  young  soldier  and 
boyhood  playmate  of  mine  from  Vermont 
had  been  sentenced  by  court  martial  to 
be  shot  for  sending  communications  to  the 
enemy.  What  had  actually  happened  was 
this.  The  fighting  at  that  time  in  our  part 
of  the  country  was  desultory — a  matter 
of  skirmishes  only.  As  must  inevitably 
happen,  even  between  hostile  bodies  of 
men  speaking  the  same  language,  a  certain 
amount  of  "fraternizing"  (although  that 
word  was  not  used  then)  went  on  between 
2  [5] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

the  outposts  and  pickets  of  the  opposing 
forces.  In  some  cases  the  pickets  faced  one 
another  on  opposite  sides  of  a  narrow 
stream.  Often  this  would  continue  for 
days  or  weeks,  the  same  men  on  the  same 
posts,  and  something  very  like  friendship 
— the  friendship  of  respectful  enemies — 
would  spring  up  between  individuals  in 
the  two  camps.  They  would  sometimes 
go  so  far  as  to  exchange  little  delicacies, 
tobacco  and  the  like,  across  the  line,  No 
Man's  Land,  as  it  was  called  in  the  last 
war.  In  some  places  the  practice  actually 
sprang  up  of  whittling  little  toy  boats 
and  sailing  them  across  a  stream,  carry 
ing  a  tiny  freight.  This  act  was  usually 
reciprocated  to  the  best  of  his  pitiful 
ability  by  Johnny  Reb  on  the  opposite 
bank. 

The  custom  served  to  while  away  the 
tedious  hours  of  picket  duty,  and  it  is 
doubtful  if  any  of  these  young  fellows 
thought  of  their  acts  as  constituting  a 
serious  military  offense.  But  such  in  fact 
[61 


When  Lincoln  Was  Laughed  At 

it  was;  and  when  my  young  friend  was 
caught  red-handed  in  the  act  of  sending 
a  Northern  newspaper  into  the  Rebel  lines 
he  was  straightway  brought  to  trial  on  the 
terrible  charge  of  corresponding  with  the 
enemy.  He  was  found  guilty  and  sen 
tenced  to  be  shot. 

When  the  time  for  the  execution  of  this 
sentence  had  nearly  arrived  I  determined, 
as  a  last  resort,  to  go  and  lay  the  case 
before  the  President  in  person,  for  it  was 
evident,  from  the  way  matters  had  gone, 
that  no  mercy  could  be  hoped  for  from  any 
lesser  tribunal.  Fortunately,  I  was  able 
to  secure  a  few  days'  leave  of  absence.  I 
made  the  trip  up  to  Hampton  Roads  by 
way  of  the  old  Dismal  Swamp  Canal. 
Hampton  Roads  was  by  this  time  under 
undisputed  control  of  the  Union  forces, 
naval  and  military,  and  Fortress  Monroe 
was,  in  fact,  General  Butler's  headquarters. 

From  this  point  it  was  a  simple,  if  some 
what  tedious,  matter  to  get  to  Washington. 
But  for  one  young  officer  the  trip  went  all 
[7] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

too  quickly.  The  nearer  loomed  the 
nation's  capital  and  the  culmination  of 
his  momentous  errand  the  more  he  became 
amazed  at  his  own  temerity,  and  it  re 
quired  the  constant  thought  of  a  gray- 
haired  mother,  soon  to  be  broken  hearted 
by  sorrow  and  disgrace,  to  hold  him  stead 
fast  to  his  purpose. 

I  had  seen  Lincoln  only  once  in  my  life, 
and  that  was  merely  as  one  of  the  audience 
in  Cooper  Union,  in  New  York,  when  he 
delivered  his  great  speech  on  abolition. 
That  had  taken  place  on  February  17, 
1860,  nearly  five  years  before — long  enough 
to  make  many  changes  in  men  and  nations 
— yet  the  thought  of  that  tall,  awkward 
orator  with  his  total  lack  of  sophistication 
and  his  great  wealth  of  human  sympathy 
did  much  to  hearten  me  for  the  coming 
interview.  Unconsciously,  as  the  miles 
jolted  past  in  my  journey  to  Washington, 
my  mind  slipped  back  over  those  five  tre 
mendous  years  and  I  seemed  to  live  again 
the  events,  half  pitiful,  but  wholly  amaz- 
[8] 


When  Lincoln  Was  Laughed  At 

ing,  of  that  great  meeting  in  the  great 
auditorium  of  old  Cooper  Union. 

At  that  time  I  was  a  school-teacher  from 
the  Hampshire  highlands  of  the  Berkshire 
Hills,  and  a  neighbor  of  William  Cullen 
Bryant.  Through  his  kindness,  my  brother, 
who  was  also  a  teacher,  and  myself  received 
an  invitation  to  hear  this  speech  by  a 
then  little-known  lawyer  from  the  West. 
We  were  told  at  the  hotel  that  the  Cooper 
Union  lectures  were  usually  discussions  on 
matters  of  practical  education,  and  we 
therefore  used  our  tickets  of  admission 
more  out  of  deference  to  Mr.  Bryant  for 
his  kindness  than  from  any  interest  in 
the  debate. 

When  we  approached  the  entrance  to 
the  building,  however,  we  were  soon  aware 
that  something  unusual  was  about  to  hap 
pen.  On  the  corner  of  the  street  near  by 
we  were  accosted  by  a  crowd  of  young 
roughs  who  demanded  of  us  whether  or 
not  we  were  "nigger  men."  We  thought 
that  the  roughs  meant  to  ask  if  we  were 
[9] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

black  men,  and  answered  decidedly,  "No!" 
What  the  mob  meant  to  ask  was,  were  we 
in  favor  of  freeing  the  negroes.  Acting, 
therefore,  upon  the  innocent  answer,  they 
thrust  into  our  hands  two  dry  onions,  with 
the  withered  tops  still  adhering  to  the 
bulbs,  while  the  ragged  crowd  yelled, 
"Keep  'em  under  yer  jacket  and  when 
yer  hear  the  five  whistles  throw  them  at 
the  feller  speakin'." 

My  brother  and  I  took  the  onions,  un 
conscious  of  the  meaning  of  such  strange 
missiles,  and  entered  the  hall  with  the 
crowd.  There  was  great  excitement,  and 
yet  we  could  not  understand  why,  for  no 
one  seemed  to  know  even  the  name  of  the 
speaker. 

"Who  is  going  to  speak?"  was  the  ques 
tion  asked  all  round  us,  which  we  asked 
also,  although  we  had  heard  the  unfamiliar 
name  of  Lincoln. 

In  one  part  of  the  hall  we  heard  several 
vociferous  answers:  "Beecher!  Beecher!" 
and  some  of  the  crowd  seemed  satisfied 
[10] 


When  Lincoln  Was  Laughed  At 

that  the  great  preacher  was  to  be  the  ora 
tor  of  the  evening.  Two  burly  policemen 
pushed  into  the  corner  from  which  the 
noisiest  tumult  came,  and  we  began  to 
surmise  that  those  onions  were  "  concealed 
weapons"  and  that  the  best  policy  was  to 
be  sure  to  keep  them  concealed.  Many 
descriptions  of  that  audience  have  been 
given  by  men  from  various  viewpoints, 
but  few  have  emphasized  the  important 
fact  that  when  the  people  entered  the  hall 
the  large  majority  were  bitterly  opposed 
to  the  abolitionists'  cause.  One-third  of 
the  audience  was  seemingly  intent  on 
mobbing  the  speaker,  for  some  of  the  men 
carried  missiles  more  offensive  than  onions. 
Mark  Twain  sagaciously  wrote  that  the 
trouble  with  old  men's  memories  is  that 
they  remember  so  many  things  "that 
ain't  so."  That  warning  may  often  be 
useful,  even  to  those  who  are  the  most 
confident  that  their  memories  are  infalli 
ble,  but  I  should  like  to  say,  and  quite 
modestly,  that  I  still  have  a  clear  vision 

in] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

of  that  startling  occasion  and  can  testify 
to  what  I  saw,  heard,  and  felt  in  that  hall 
on  that  memorable  evening. 

I  had  previously  read  and  studied  the 
great  models  of  eloquence,  and  was  then 
in  New  York,  using  my  carefully  hoarded 
pennies  to  hear  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  Dr. 
R.  S.  Stone,  Doctor  Storrs,  Doctor  Bel 
lows,  Archbishop  McCloskey,  and  other 
orators  of  current  fame.  I  had  studied 
much  for  the  purpose  of  teaching  my 
classes,  from  the  great  models,  from  Cicero 
to  Daniel  Webster,  and  I  had  found  my 
ideal  in  Edward  Everett.  But  those  two 
hours  in  Cooper  Union;  like  a  sudden 
cyclone,  were  destined  to  shatter  all  my 
carefully  built  theories.  After  nearly 
sixty-two  years  of  bewilderment  I  am  still 
asking,  "What  was  it  that  made  that 
speech  on  that  night  an  event  of  such 
world-wide  importance?"  It  was  not  the 
physical  man;  it  was  not  in  what  he  said. 
Let  us  with  open  judgment  meditate  on 
the  facts. 


When  Lincoln  Was  Laughed  At 

The  persons  in  the  audience,  and  their 
city,  as  well,  were  antagonistic  to  Lincoln's 
party  associates.  The  negro-haters  had 
seemingly  pre-empted  the  hall.  Stories  of 
negro  brutality  had  been  published  in  the 
papers  of  that  week.  Lincoln  was  regarded 
as  an  adventurer  from  the  "wild  and 
woolly  West."  He  was  expected  to  be  an 
extremist.  He  was  crude,  unpolished,  hav 
ing  no  reputation  in  the  East  as  a  scholar. 
He  was  not  an  orator  and  had  the  reputa 
tion  of  being  only  a  homely  teller  of 
grocery-store  yarns.  His  voice  was  of  a 
poor  quality,  grinding  the  ears  sharply. 
He  seemed  to  be  a  ludicrous  scarecrow 
rival  of  the  great  gentleman,  scholar,  and 
statesman,  William  H.  Seward.  Even 
Lincoln's  own  party  in  New  York  City 
bowed  religiously  to  Seward,  the  idol  of 
New  York  State.  The  Quakers  and  the 
adherents  of  the  pro-slavery  party  were 
conscientiously  opposed  to  war,  especially 
against  a  civil  war. 

We  now  know  that  Lincoln's  speech  had 
[13] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

been  written  in  Illinois.  As  I  saw  him,  on 
its  delivery,  he  himself  was  trebly  chained 
to  his  manuscript,  by  his  own  modest 
timidity,  by  the  dictation  of  his  party 
managers,  and  by  the  fact  that  when  he 
spoke  his  written  speech  was  already  set 
up  in  type  for  the  next  morning's  papers. 
In  the  chair  on  the  platform  as  presiding 
officer  sat  the  venerable  poet  of  the  New 
England  mountains  and  the  writer  of  keen 
political  editorials.  The  minds  of  the  in 
telligent  auditors  began  to  repeat  "Thana- 
topsis"  or  "The  Fringed  Gentian"  as  soon 
as  they  saw  the  noble  old  man.  His  cul 
ture,  age,  reputation,  dignified  bearing,  and 
faultless  attire  seemed  in  disparaging  con 
trast  to  the  appearance  of  the  young 
visitor  beside  him.  In  addition  to  Mr. 
Bryant,  the  stage  setting  included,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  slender  guest,  a  very 
ponderous  fat  man,  whose  proportions,  in 
their  contrasting  effect  upon  the  speaker 
of  the  evening,  made  his  thin  form  so  tall 
as  to  bring  to  mind  Lincoln's  story  of  the 
[14] 


When  Lincoln  Was  Laughed  At 

man  "so  tall  they  laid  him  out  in  a  rope 
walk." 

Lincoln  himself  was  seated  in  a  half- 
round  armchair.  His  awkward  legs  were 
tied  in  a  kind  of  a  knot  in  the  rungs  of  the 
chair.  His  tall  hat,  with  his  manuscript 
in  it,  was  near  him  on  the  floor.  The  black 
fur  of  the  hat  was  rubbed  into  rough 
streaks.  One  of  his  trousers  legs  was 
caught  on  the  back  of  his  boot.  His  coat 
was  too  large.  His  head  was  bowed  and 
he  looked  down  at  the  floor  without  lifting 
his  eyes. 

Somebody  whispered  in  one  of  the  back 
seats,  "Let's  go  home,"  and  was  answered, 
"No,  not  yet;  there'll  be  fun  here  soon!" 

The  entrance  of  the  stranger  speaker 
was  greeted  with  neither  decided  nor 
hearty  applause.  In  fact,  the  greeting  for 
Mr.  Bryant  was  far  more  enthusiastic. 
But  there  was  a  chilling  formality  in  the 
effect  of  the  whole  of  Mr.  Bryant's  intro 
duction.  Nothing  worth  hearing  was  ex 
pected  of  the  lank  and  uncouth  stranger 
[15] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

— that  was  the  impression  made  upon  me. 
And  when  young  Lincoln  made  an  awk 
ward  gesture  in  trying  to  bow  his  thanks 
to  Mr.  Bryant,  the  audience  began  to 
smirk  and  giggle.  Lincoln  was  evidently 
disturbed  and  felt  painfully  out  of  place. 
He  seemed  to  be  fearfully  lacking  in  self- 
control  and  appeared  to  feel  that  he  had 
made  a  ridiculous  mistake  in  accepting 
such  an  invitation  to  such  a  place.  One 
singular  proof  of  Lincoln's  nervousness 
was  in  the  fact  that  he  had  forgotten  to 
take  from  the  top  of  his  ear  a  long,  black 
lead  pencil,  which  occasionally  threatened 
to  shoot  out  at  the  audience. 

When  I  mentioned  the  pencil  to  Lincoln 
nearly  five  years  later,  he  said  that  his 
absent-mindedness  on  that  occasion  re 
called  to  him  the  story  of  an  old  English 
man  who  was  so  absent-minded  that  w^hen 
he  went  to  bed  he  put  his  clothes  carefully 
into  the  bed  and  threw  himself  over  the 
back  of  his  chair. 

When  Mr.  Bryant's  introduction  was 
[161 


When  Lincoln  Was  Laughed  At 

concluded,  Lincoln  hesitated.  He  at 
tempted  to  rise,  and  caught  the  toe  of  his 
boot  under  the  rung  of  his  chair.  He  ran 
his  long  fingers  through  his  hair,  which 
left  one  long  tuft  sticking  up  from  the 
back  of  his  head  like  an  Indian's  feather. 
He  looked  pale,  and  he  unrolled  his  manu 
script  with  trembling  fingers.  He  began 
to  read  in  a  low,  hollow  voice  that  trem 
bled  from  uncertainty  and  nervousness — 
so  low,  in  fact,  that  the  crowd  at  the  rear 
of  the  hall  could  not  hear,  and  shouted: 
"Louder!  Louder!" 

At  this  the  speaker's  voice  became  a 
little  stronger,  and  with  this  added  strength 
came  added  confidence,  so  much  so  that 
there  came  suddenly  a  slight  climax.  The 
speaker  looked  up  from  his  manuscript  as 
though  to  note  the  effect  of  his  words. 
But  his  eyes  quickly  dropped  again  to  the 
paper  in  his  shaking  hands.  The  applause 
was  fitful,  and  from  the  corner  where  the 
hoodlums  were  assembled  came  several 
distinct  hisses. 

[17] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

When  the  audience  finally  began  to 
make  out  what  he  was  endeavoring  to 
say  about  the  signers  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  and  their  opposition  to 
the  extension  of  human  slavery,  there  was 
for  a  time  respectful  silence. 

How  long  the  painful  recital  might  have 
been  permitted  to  continue  no  one  can  tell. 
The  crowd,  even  that  portion  inclined  to 
favor  Lincoln's  views,  was  growing  in 
creasingly  restless.  Half  an  hour  had 
passed.  The  ordeal  could  not  go  on  much 
longer.  Suddenly  a  leaf  from  the  speaker's 
manuscript  accidentally  and  without  his 
knowledge  dropped  to  the  floor.  The 
moment  he  missed  the  leaf  he  turned  a 
little  paler  than  he  had  been  and  hesitated 
awkwardly. 

For  a  moment  the  audience  felt  keenly 
the  embarrassment  of  the  situation.  But 
the  pause  was  brief.  With  an  honest 
gesture  of  impatience  and  a  movement 
forward  as  if  he  were  about  to  leap  into 
the  audience,  Lincoln  lifted  his  voice, 
[18] 


When  Lincoln  Was  Laughed  At 

swung  out  his  long  arms,  and,  as  my 
brother  remarked,  "let  himself  go." 

Disregarding  his  written  speech,1  Lin 
coln  launched  into  that  part  of  the  subject 
that  was  nearest  his  heart.  In  a  voice 
that  no  longer  was  hollow  or  sepulchral, 
but  rich  and  ringing,  he  denounced  the 
institution  of  slavery.  Yet  he  spoke  of 
the  South  in  the  most  affectionate  terms. 
He  said  he  loved  the  South,  since  "he  was 
born  there,"  but  that  he  loved  the  Union 
more  for  what  it  had  done  united  and 
what  it  was  destined  still  to  do  united. 

Wave  after  wave  of  telling  eloquence 
rolled  forth  from  this  uncouth,  gaunt 
figure  and  literally  dashed  itself  against 

1  Charles  Sumner  said,  in  one  of  his  great  speeches  in 
Fanueil  Hall,  Boston,  that  if  the  spteech  Lincoln  carefully 
wrote  had  not  been  circulated,  or  if  he  had  actually  deliv 
ered  the  speech  which  he  wrote,  the  change  of  direction  in 
the  car  of  progress  would  have  led  to  delays  and  disasters 
"out  beyond  the  limits  of  human  calculation."*  Many  of 
the  great  historians  like  Hay,  Brockett,  McClure,  and  Miss 
Tarbell  have  overlooked  or  thrown  aside  the  most  wonder 
ful  portion  of  that  speech  where  the  disgusted  orator  lost 
his  place  because  of  a  misplaced  leaf  of  the  manuscript 
from  which  he  was  reading. 

[19] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

the  hard,  resisting  minds  of  that  preju 
diced  audience.  Already  the  feeble  wits 
were  engulfed  in  the  overwhelming  verbal 
torrents  that  came  now  like  avalanches, 
and  little  by  little  even  the  most  biased 
minds  began  to  relent  under  the  mystic 
persuasiveness  of  his  voice  and  the  unan- 
swerableness  of  his  logic,  until  nearly 
everybody  in  that  throbbing  and  excited 
audience  was  convinced  that  slavery  was 
one  of  the  blackest  crimes  of  which  man 
could  be  found  guilty.  And  even  before 
the  last  words  of  his  impassioned  eloquence 
had  passed  his  lips  the  audience  was  on 
its  feet,  and  those  most  bitterly  opposed 
to  him  politically  arose  too  and  applauded 
him. 

Naturally,  no  verbatim  report  of  that 
address  can  be  recalled  after  sixty  years. 
But  the  impression  it  made  almost  sur 
passes  belief  when  told  to  those  who  were 
not  there.  There  is  no  clearer  descriptive 
term  which  could  be  applied  to  the  speaker 
than  to  state,  as  some  did,  that  "the  orator 
[20] 


When  Lincoln  Was  Laughed  At 

was  transfigured."  No  one  thought  of  his 
ill-fitting  new  suit,  of  his  old  hat,  of  his 
protruding  wrists  or  the  disheveled  hair, 
of  his  long  legs,  his  bony  face,  or  the  one 
sided  necktie.  The  natural  Abraham  Lin 
coln  had  disappeared  and  an  angel  spake 
in  his  place.  Nothing  but  language  which 
seems  extravagant  will  tell  the  accurate 
truth. 

All  manner  of  theories  were  advanced  by 
those  who  heard  the  speech  to  account  for 
the  gigantic  mystery  of  eloquent  power 
which  he  exhibited.  One  said  it  was  mes 
merism;  another  that  it  was  magnetism; 
while  the  superstitious  said  there  was  "a 
distinct  halo  about  his  head"  at  one  place 
in  the  speech.  No  analysis  of  the  speech 
as  he  wrote  it,  nor  any  recollection  of  the 
words,  shows  anything  remarkable  in  lan 
guage,  figures,  or  ideas.  The  subtle,  mag 
netic,  spiritual  force  which  emanated  from 
that  inspired  speaker  revealed  to  his  audi 
ence  an  altogether  different  man  from  the 
one  who  began  to  read  a  different  speech. 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

He  did  not  approach  the  delicate  sweetness 
of  Mr.  Bryant's  words  of  introduction,  or 
reach  the  imaginative  scenes  and  noble 
company  which  characterized  Beecher's 
addresses.  Lincoln  was  less  cutting  than 
Wendell  Phillips  and  had  no  definite  style 
like  Everett  or  Gough.  As  an  orator  he 
imitated  no  one,  and  surely  no  one  could 
imitate  him.  Of  the  four  Ohio  voters  who 
changed  their  votes  in  the  Republican 
convention  and  made  Lincoln's  nomina 
tion  sure,  two  heard  that  Cooper  Union 
speech  and  claimed  sturdily  that  they 
knew  "old  Abe"  was  right,  but  could  not 
tell  why. 

Thus  it  appears  throughout  Lincoln's 
public  life.  He  was  larger  than  his  task, 
wider  than  his  party,  ahead  of  his  time  as 
an  inspired  prophet,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
a  spiritual  force  without  material  limita 
tions.  He  began  to  grow  at  his  death,  and 
is  conquering  now  in  lands  he  never  saw 
and  rules  over  nations  which  cannot  pro 
nounce  his  name.  Such  individual  influ- 
[22] 


When  Lincoln  Was  Laughed  At 

ence  is  next  to  the  divine,  and  is  of  the 
same  nature.  Can  we  find  a  measure  for 
such  a  man? 

These  facts  and  these  thoughts  were  in 
my  mind  as  I  traveled  to  Washington  to 
intercede  for  my  condemned  comrade. 
Such  was  the  man  to  whom  I  was  going. 
But  it  was  to  Lincoln  the  commander-in- 
chief,  and  not  to  Lincoln  the  impassioned 
orator,  that  I  must  make  my  plea. 


Chapter  II:    President  and  Pilgrim 

THE  reader  will  not  be  surprised  to 
learn  that  getting  into  the  presence 
of  the  President  was  no  laughing 
matter,  and  that  his  own  habit  of  occa 
sionally    using   laughter   during   business 
hours  did  not  always  descend  to  those 
under  him  in  the  government. 

I  arrived  in  Washington  early  on  a  crisp 
December  morning,  just  a  few  days  before 
Christmas.  I  went  straightway  to  the  old 
Ebbit  House,  which  was  then  the  fashion 
able  gathering  place  for  military  people 
stationed  or  sojourning  in  the  capital. 
The  contrast  between  "desk  officers"  and 
officers  in  the  field  was  even  greater  then 
than  in  more  recent  days,  because  if  the 
former  were  less  smart  in  appearance  than 
the  modern  "citified"  officer,  the  latter 
were,  as  a  rule,  vastly  more  disheveled 
[24] 


President  and  Pilgrim 

and  disreputable  in  appearance  than  one 
would  find  in  any  army  of  to-day  on  cam 
paign.  There  were  good  reasons  for  this, 
of  course,  but  they  did  not  greatly  help  to 
increase  the  confidence  of  a  decidedly 
"seedy "-looking  young  officer  fresh  from 
the  swamps  and  thickets  of  North  Caro 
lina.  I  was  glad  to  get  away  from  the 
environs  of  the  Ebbit  House  after  a  brief 
but  very  earnest  effort  to  "spruce  up." 

When  the  time  at  last  arrived  that  the 
ordeal  was  directly  ahead,  I  plucked  up 
courage  and  walked  up  the  footpath  to  the 
White  House  with  a  tolerably  certain  step. 
Even  at  the  height  of  the  war  President 
Lincoln  did  not  surround  himself  by  the 
barriers  which  later  Executives  have  found 
necessary.  One  simply  went  to  the  White 
House,  stated  his  business,  and  waited  his 
turn  for  an  interview. 

Once  inside  that  building,  however,  my 
earlier  timidity  returned  tenfold.     I  had 
agreed  that  morning  with  the  local  corre 
spondent  of  the  New  York  Tribune  to  get 
[25] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

all  the  material  I  could  from  Lincoln  for 
an  interview  for  his  paper.  I  trembled  as 
with  a  chill  when  I  told  the  doorkeeper 
that  I  wished  to  see  the  President,  and 
when  the  official  coldly  ordered  me  to 
"come  in  and  sit  over  there,  in  that  row," 
I  began  to  doubt  whether  I  was  to  be 
arrested  for  intrusion.  The  anteroom  was 
crowded  with  important-looking  people, 
all  waiting  for  an  interview  with  Lincoln. 
I  wondered  if  I  would  ever  get  within  sight 
of  his  door. 

Presently,  however,  the  President's  per 
sonal  secretary  entered  the  room,  and  pass 
ing  along  the  line  of  visitors  with  a  note 
book,  asked  each  to  state  his  business  with 
the  President.  I  showed  my  pass  and  in 
a  few  words  explained  my  errand,  even 
mustering  up  courage  to  emphasize  the 
urgency  of  the  case. 

The  secretary   disappeared,   and   there 

was    an    awkward    half   hour  of    waiting. 

Finally  he  returned  by  a  side  door  and. 

calling  out  my  name,  directed  me  in  an 

[26] 


President  and  Pilgrim 

official  way  to  "come  in  at  once"  ahead  of 
all  the  others.  When  I  had  passed  into  the 
vestibule  the  secretary  shut  the  reception- 
room  door  behind  us  and,  pointing  to  a 
door  at  the  other  side  of  the  room,  said, 
hastily:  "That  is  the  President's  door. 
Go  over,  rap  on  the  door,  and  walk  right 
in."  He  then  hurried  out  at  a  side  door 
and  left  me  alone. 

Thus  abandoned,  I  felt  faint  with  terror, 
embarrassment,  and  conflicting  decisions. 
It  was  a  most  painful  ordeal  to  be  left  to 
go  in  alone  to  meet  the  august  head  of 
the  nation — to  rush  alone  into  the  privacy 
of  the  Commander-in-chief  of  all  the  loyal 
armies  of  the  Union.  It  was  an  especially 
trying  period  of  the  war  which  we  had 
just  passed  through.  Sherman's  march  to 
the  sea  was  still  in  progress.  The  Presi 
dent  had  not  yet  received  the  historic  tele 
gram  in  which  General  Sherman  offered 
him  the  city  of  Savannah  as  a  Christmas 
gift,  but  he  was  well  aware  of  the  thorough 
devastation  which  that  army  left  in  its 
[27] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

wake;  and  while  he  understood  its  neces 
sity,  the  thought  filled  him  with  deepest 
gloom.  Hood's  Confederate  army,  which 
threatened  for  a  time  to  repeat  the  suc 
cesses  of  General  Kirby  Smith,  had  been 
crushed  in  Tennessee,  but  only  after  a 
period  of  suspense  which  stretched  the 
nerves  of  all  in  administration  circles  to 
within  a  degree  of  the  breaking  point.  In 
addition  to  this  the  voices  of  the  "defeat 
ists" — "Copperheads,"  they  were  called 
then — were  heard  far  and  wide  in  the  land, 
ranting  and  howling  their  demand  for  a 
peace  which  would  have  been  premature 
and  inconclusive.  The  cares  and  sorrows 
of  the  President  had  hardly  been  more 
severe  during  the  most  critical  days  of  the 
war  than  they  were  in  December,  1864 — 
it  was  the  dark  just  before  the  dawn. 

Whether  to  turn  and  run  for  the  street, 
to  stand  still,  or  to  force  myself  to  rap  on 
that  awful  door  was  a  question  filling  my 
soul  with  frightful  emotions.  I  rubbed 
my  head  and  walked  several  times  across 
[28] 


\ 

President  and  Pilgrim 

the  vestibule  to  regain  possession  of  my 
normal  faculties.  No  one  who  has  not 
been  placed  in  such  a  startling  situation 
can  begin  to  realize  what  a  stage-struck 
heartache  afflicted  me.  I  had  been  under 
fire  and  heard  the  shells  crack  and  the 
bullets  sing,  but  none  of  those  experiences, 
so  awful  to  a  green  soldier,  had  so  filled 
my  being  with  a  desire  to  run  away.  But 
I  recalled  the  fact  that  the  President  had 
the  reputation  of  being  a  plain  man  to 
whom  any  citizen  could  speak  on  the  street 
and  was  kind-hearted  to  an  almost  femi 
nine  degree,  so  I  wiped  my  brow  and  at 
last  drove  myself  over  to  the  door.  There, 
with  the  desperation  such  as  the  suicide 
must  feel  as  he  leaps  from  the  cliff,  I  rapped 
hesitatingly  on  the  door. 

Instantly  a  strong  voice  from  inside 
shouted,  "Come  in  and  sit  down."  It 
was  a  command  rather  than  an  invitation. 

I  turned  the  knob  weakly  and  entered, 
almost  on  tiptoe.  There  at  the  side  of  a 
long  table  sat  the  same  lank  individual 
[291 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

who  spoke  at  the  Cooper  Union  four  years 
before.  The  pallor  of  his  face  and  the 
prominence  of  the  cheek  bones  seemed 
even  more  striking  in  contrast  with  the  full 
beard  than  when  he  was  clean  shaven. 
But  his  hair  was  as  sadly  disturbed  and 
his  clothing  had  the  same  lack  of  style 
and  fitness.  An  old  gray  shawl  had  fallen 
across  one  corner  of  the  table,  where  also 
lay  numerous  rolls  of  papers.  The  Presi 
dent  did  not  look  up  when  I  stepped  in 
and  hesitatingly  sat  down  in  the  chair 
nearest  the  door. 

That  close  application  to  the  task  before 
him  was  a  characteristic  of  Lincoln  which 
has  not  been  emphasized  by  his  biographers 
as  it  could  and  should  have  been.  To 
quote  his  own  words,  whenever  he  read  a 
book  he  "exhausted  it."  It  seems  to  be 
the  one  great  trait  of  character  which  lifted 
him  above  the  common  clay  from  which 
he  came.  Lincoln  had  no  inheritance 
worth  recording.  He  once  wrote  to  his 
partner  that  what  little  talent,  money,  and 
[30] 


President  and  Pilgrim 

learning  he  had  was  "purloined  or  picked 
up." 

Surely,  never  among  the  surprises  which 
one  finds  in  the  history  of  this  nation  is 
there  one  more  unaccountable  than  the 
career  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  How  he  first 
formed  the  habit,  or  where  he  adopted  his 
method  of  mental  concentration,  has  not 
been  revealed.  The  ability  to  focus  one's 
whole  mind  on  a  single  idea  is  not  such  an 
unattainable  achievement.  Perhaps  it  has 
no  connection  with  genius  in  the  true 
sense,  but  it  serves  to  concentrate  all  the 
rays  of  mental  light  and  power  until  they 
penetrate  the  hardest  substances  and  ignite 
into  explosion  the  latent  power  hitherto 
unguessed. 

There  seems  to  be  no  other  great  quality 
in  Lincoln's  mentality,  but  that  one  may 
account  for  all  in  him  that  was  above  the 
normal.  He  could  manage  flatboats,  split 
rails,  endure  fatigue,  tell  homely  stories 
for  illustration,  and  wait  with  unshakable 
patience,  but  his  greatest  achievement 
[31] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

was  in  the  power  he  gained  to  think  hard 
and  long  with  his  mind  immovably  con 
centrated  upon  a  difficult  problem. 

That  morning  while  I  sat  trembling  by 
the  door,  the  President  read  on  with  undis 
turbed  attention  the  manuscript  before 
him,  occasionally  making  notes  on  the 
margin  of  the  paper.  He  did  not  lift  his 
eyes  or  move  in  his  seat,  and  it  was  not 
until  he  had  read  carefully  the  last  sen 
tence,  had  scribbled  his  name  or  initials 
at  the  bottom  of  the  last  page,  and  had 
tied  the  paper  carefully  with  a  string,  that 
he  looked  up  at  his  visitor.  Then  a  smile 
came  over  the  worn  face,  and  as  he  pulled 
himself  into  his  spring-backed  chair  he 
called  out,  cheerfully: 

"Come  over  to  the  table,  young  man. 
Glad  to  see  you.  But  remember  that  I 
am  a  very  busy  man  and  have  no  time  to 
spare;  so  tell  me  in  the  fewest  words  what 
it  is  you  want." 

I  took  the  seat  at  the  table  to  which  the 
President  pointed,  pulled  out  a  copy  of 
[32] 


President  and  Pilgrim 

the  record  of  the  case,  and  read  the  soldier's 
name.  The  President  stopped  me  almost 
sharply,  saying: 

"Oh,  you  don't  need  to  read  more  about 
that  case.  Mr.  Stanton  and  I  talked  over 
that  report  carefully  last  week!" 

Already  my  nervousness  had  been  dis 
pelled  as  if  by  magic.  Indeed,  the  Presi 
dent's  cordial,  familiar  manner  and  ap 
parent  good  will  gave  me  the  courage  to 
remark  that  it  was  "almost  time  for  that 
order  to  be  carried  out."  For  a  moment 
Lincoln  seemed  to  be  offended  by  the  hasty 
remark.  Flinging  himself  back  in  his  chair 
with  an  impatient  gesture,  he  said: 

"You  can  go  down  to  the  Ebbit  House 
now  and  write  to  that  soldier's  mother  in 
Vermont  and  tell  her  the  President  told 
you  that  he  never  did  sign  an  order  to  shoot 
a  boy  under  twenty  years  of  age  and  that 
he  never  will!" 

As  he  uttered  the  last  words  of  that  re 
mark  he  swung  his  long  arms  swiftly  over 
his  head  and  struck  the  table  violently 
F331 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

with  his  fist.  At  that  moment  Lincoln's 
boy,  "Tad,"  then  eleven  years  old,  slipped 
off  a  stool  in  the  farther  corner  of  the  room, 
where  he  had  been  silently  at  play,  and 
Lincoln  turned  anxiously  around  at  the 
sound  of  his  fall.  Seeing  that  the  little 
boy  was  unhurt,  the  President  called: 

"Come  here,  Tad,  I  wish  to  introduce 
you  to  this  soldier!" 

So  quickly  and  easily  had  the  purpose 
of  my  interview  been  accomplished  that 
for  a  moment  it  left  me  dazed.  But  Lin 
coln  wanted  no  thanks.  What  was  done 
was  done,  and  the  incident  was  closed. 
The  name  of  my  young  soldier  friend  was 
not  mentioned  again  in  the  course  of  what 
turned  out  to  be  a  long  and  wonderful 
chat  about  subjects  as  alien  to  discipline 
as  music,  education,  and  the  cultivation 
and  use  of  humor.  The  President  had  a 
purpose  in  detaining  me,  though  at  first 
I  did  not  perceive  what  this  was. 

Without  appearing  in  the  least  to  see 
anything  incongruous  in  the  act — while  a 
[341 


President  and  Pilgrim 

score  of  important  callers  waited  in  the 
anteroom — Lincoln  threw  his  long  arm 
about  the  little  boy  and  plunged  into  a 
conversation  of  the  most  personal  sort. 
He  told  me  it  was  his  ambition  to  carry 
on  a  farm,  with  Tad  for  a  partner.  He 
said  that  he  had  bought  a  farm  at  New 
Salem,  Illinois,  where  he  used  to  dig 
potatoes  at  twenty-five  cents  a  day,  and 
that  Tad  and  he  were  to  have  mule  teams 
and  raise  corn  and  onions.  Then  he  smiled 
as  he  remarked,  "Mrs.  Lincoln  does  not 
know  anything  about  the  plan  for  the 


onions." 


He  said  farming  was,  after  all,  the  best 
occupation  on  earth.  He  then  told  a  num 
ber  of  incidents  in  his  own  life  to  illustrate, 
as  he  said,  "How  little  I  know  about  farm 
ing!"  The  incidents  were  droll  and  full 
of  wise  suggestions,  which  wholly  disarmed 
me  until  I  laughed  without  reserve. 

Lincoln  told  of  a  visit  Horace  Greeley 
had  made  to  the  White  House  a  few  weeks 
before  to  enlighten  the  President  on  "What 
[351 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

I  know  about  farming."  Lincoln  said  he 
half  believed  the  story  about  Greeley 
wherein  it  was  said  that  he  (Greeley) 
planted  a  long  row  of  beans,  and  when  in 
the  process  of  first  growth  the  beans  were 
pushed  bodily  out  of  the  ground,  Greeley 
concluded  that  the  beans  "had  made  a 
blunder,"  and,  pulling  up  each  bean,  he 
carefully  turned  it  over  with  the  roots 
sticking  out  in  the  air. 

The  President  then  asked  me  if  I  was  a 
farmer's  boy,  and  when  I  answered  that  I 
was  brought  up  on  a  farm  in  the  Berkshire 
Hills  he  burst  out  into  strong  laughter  and 
said,  "I  hear  that  you  have  to  sharpen  the 
noses  of  the  sheep  up  there  to  get  them 
down  to  the  grass  between  the  rocks." 
Then  the  President,  as  his  mind  was  led 
away  from  the  awful  cares  of  state,  turned 
to  a  small  side  table  and  picked  up  a  much- 
worn  copy  of  the  News  Stand  Edition  of 
the  Life  and  Sayings  of  Artemus  Ward. 
Both  Ward  and  Lincoln  were  skilled  story 
tellers,  and  they  were  alike  hi  their  avoid- 
[36] 


President  and  Pilgrim 

ance  of  vulgar  or  low  yarns.  Lincoln  was 
credited  with  thousands  of  yarns  he  never 
heard,  and  with  thousands  to  which  he 
would  not  have  listened  without  giving  a 
rebuke.  Many  of  those  at  which  he  re 
volted  have  been  continued  in  print  under 
his  name.  But  Ward's  speech  concerning 
his  visit  to  the  President  among  the  office- 
seeking  crowd  was  to  Lincoln's  mind  "a 
masterpiece  of  pure  fun." 

As  we  sat  there  Lincoln  opened  Arte- 
mus  Ward's  book  and  read  several  things 
from  it.  Then  closing  it,  he  said,  "Ward 

rests  me  more  than  any  living  man." 
4 


Chapter  III:    Lincoln  Reads 
Artemus  Ward  Aloud 

F  I  1HIS    generation,    whose    taste    in 

humor  has  naturally  changed  from 

"^     that  of  Civil  War  times,  is  not  very 

familiar  with  the  stories  of  Artemus  Ward. 

It  will  be  well  for  the  reader  to  bear  this 

in  mind  in  the  pages  that  follow. 

One  of  the  two  stories  Lincoln  read  by 
way  of  relaxation,  as  I  have  told  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  concerned  the  President 
himself.  Here  it  is: 

HOW  OLD  ABE  RECEIVED  THE  NEWS  OF  HIS 
NOMINATION 

There  are  several  reports  afloat  as  to 
how  "Honest  Old  Abe"  received  the  news 
of  his  nomination,  none  of  which  are  cor 
rect.    We  give  the  correct  report. 
[381 


Lincoln  Reads  Artemus  Ward  Aloud 

The  Official  Committee  arrived  in 
Springfield  at  dewy  eve,  and  went  to  Hon 
est  Old  Abe's  house.  Honest  Old  Abe  was 
not  in.  Mrs.  Honest  Old  Abe  said  Honest 
Old  Abe  was  out  in  the  woods  splitting  rails. 
So  the  Official  Committee  went  out  into 
the  woods,  where,  sure  enough,  they  found 
Honest  Old  Abe  splitting  rails  with  his  two 
boys.  It  was  a  grand,  a  magnificent  spec 
tacle.  There  stood  Honest  Old  Abe  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  a  pair  of  leather  home-made 
suspenders  holding  up  a  pair  of  home-made 
pantaloons,  the  seat  of  which  was  neatly 
patched  with  substantial  cloth  of  a  dif 
ferent  color.  "Mr.  Lincoln,  Sir,  you've 
been  nominated,  Sir,  for  the  highest  office, 
Sir—"  "Oh,  don't  bother  me,"  said  Hon 
est  Old  Abe;  "I  took  a  stent  this  mornin* 
to  split  three  million  rails  afore  night,  and 
I  don't  want  to  be  pestered  with  no  stuff 
about  no  Conventions  till  I  get  my  stent 
done.  I've  only  got  two  hundred  thousand 
rails  to  split  before  sundown.  I  kin  do  it 
if  you'll  let  me  alone."  And  the  great  man 
[39] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

went  right  on  splitting  rails,  paying  no 
attention  to  the  Committee  whatever. 
The  Committee  were  lost  in  admiration  for 
a  few  moments,  when  they  recovered,  and 
asked  one  of  Honest  Old  Abe's  boys  whose 
boy  he  was?  "I'm  my  parent's  boy," 
shouted  the  urchin,  which  burst  of  wit  so 
convulsed  the  Committee  that  they  came 
very  near  "gin'in  eout"  completely.  In  a 
few  moments  Honest  Ole  Abe  finished  his 
task,  and  received  the  news  with  perfect 
self-possession.  He  then  asked  them  up 
to  the  house,  where  he  received  them  cor 
dially.  He  said  he  split  three  million  rails 
every  day,  although  he  was  in  very  poor 
health.  Mr.  Lincoln  is  a  jovial  man,  and 
has  a  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous.  .  During 
the  evening  he  asked  Mr.  Evarts,  of  New 
York,  "why  Chicago  was  like  a  hen  cross 
ing  the  street?"  Mr.  Evarts  gave  it  up. 
"Because,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "Old  Grimes 
is  dead,  that  good  old  man ! "  This  exceed 
ingly  humorous  thing  created  the  most 
uproarious  laughter. 

[40] 


Lincoln  Reads  Artemus  Ward  Aloud 

INTERVIEW  WITH  PRESIDENT  LINCOLN 

I  hav  no  politics.    Not  a  one.    I'm  not 
in  the  bizniss.    If  I  was  I  spose  I  should 
holler  versiffrusly  in  the  streets  at  nite 
and  go  home  to  Betsy  Jane  smellin  of  coal 
ile  and  gin,  in  the  mornin.    I  should  go  to 
the  Poles  arly.    I  should  stay  there  all  day. 
I  should  see  to  it  that  my  nabers  was  thar. 
I  should  git  carriges  to  take  the  kripples, 
the   infirm,  and   the   indignant  thar.     I 
should  be  on  guard  agin  frauds  and  sich. 
I  should  be  on  the  look  out  for  the  infamus 
lise  of  the  enemy,  got  up  jest  be4  elecshun 
for  perlitical  effeck.     When  all  was  over 
and  my  candy-date  was  elected,  I  should 
move  heving  &  erth — so  to  speak — until 
I  got  orfice,  which  if  I  didn't  git  a  orfice 
I  should  turn  round  and  abooze  the  Ad 
ministration  with  all  my  mite  and  maine. 
But  I'm  not  in  the  bizniss.    I'm  in  a  far 
more  respectful  bizniss  nor  what  pollertics 
is.    I  wouldn't  giv  two  cents  to  be  a  Con- 
gresser.    The  wuss  insult  I  ever  received 
[41] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

was  when  sertin  citizens  of  Baldinsville 
axed  me  to  run  fur  the  Legislater.  Sez  I, 
"My  f rends,  dostest  think  I'd  stoop  to  that 
there?"  They  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet. 
I  spoke  in  my  most  orfullest  tones  &  they 
knowed  I  wasn't  to  be  trifled  with.  They 
slunked  out  of  site  to  onct. 

There4,  havin  no  politics,  I  made  bold 
to  visit  Old  Abe  at  his  humstid  in  Spring 
field.  I  found  the  old  feller  in  his  parler, 
surrounded  by  a  perfeck  swarm  of  orfice 
seekers.  Knowin  he  had  been  capting  of 
a  flat  boat  on  the  roarin  Mississippy  I 
thought  I'd  address  him  in  sailor  lingo,  so 
sez  I,  "Old  Abe,  ahoy!  Let  out  yer  main- 
suls,  reef  hum  the  forecastle  &  throw  yer 
jib-poop  over-board!  Shiver  my  timbers, 
my  harty!"  [N.  B.  This  is  ginuine  mari 
ner  langwidge.  I  know,  becawz  I've  seen 
sailor  plays  acted  out  by  them  New  York 
theater  fellers.]  Old  Abe  lookt  up  quite 
cross  &  sez,  "Send  in  yer  petition  by  &  by. 
I  can't  possibly  look  at  it  now.  Indeed, 
I  can't.  It's  on-possible,  sir!" 


Lincoln  Reads  Artemus  Ward  Aloud 

"Mr.  Linkin,  who  do  you  spect  I  air?" 
sed  I. 

"A  orfice-seeker,  to  be  sure,"  sed  he. 

"Wall,  sir,"  sed  I,  "you's  never  more 
mistaken  in  your  life.  You  hain't  gut  a 
orfiss  I'd  take  under  no  circumstances. 
I'm  A.  Ward.  Wax  figgers  is  my  per- 
feshun.  I'm  the  father  of  Twins,  and  they 
look  like  me — both  of  them.  I  cum  to  pay 
a  friendly  visit  to  the  President  eleck  of 
the  United  States.  If  so  be  you  wants  to 
see  me,  say  so,  if  not,  say  so  &  I'm  orf 
like  a  jug  handle." 

"Mr.  Ward,  sit  down.  I  am  glad  to 
see  you,  Sir." 

"Repose  in  Abraham's  Buzzum!"  sed 
one  of  the  orfice  seekers,  his  idee  bein  to 
git  orf  a  goak  at  my  expense. 

"Wall,"  sez  I,  "ef  all  you  fellers  repose 
in  that  there  Buzzum  thar'll  be  mity  poor 
nussin  for  sum  of  you!"  whereupon  Old 
Abe  buttoned  his  weskit  clear  up  and 
blusht  like  a  maidin  of  sweet  16.  Jest  at 
this  pint  of  the  conversation  another 
F431 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

swarm  of  orfice-seekers  arrove  &  cum  pilin 
into  the  parler.  Sum  wanted  post  orfices, 
sum  wanted  collectorships,  sum  wantid 
furrin  missions,  and  all  wanted  sumthin. 
I  thought  Old  Abe  would  go  crazy.  He 
hadn't  more  than  had  time  to  shake  hands 
with  'em,  before  another  tremenjis  crowd 
cum  pore  in  onto  his  premises.  His  house 
and  dooryard  was  now  perfeckly  over 
flowed  with  orfice  seekers,  all  clameruss 
for  a  immejit  interview  with  Old  Abe. 
One  man  from  Ohio,  who  had  about  seven 
inches  of  corn  whisky  into  him,  mistook 
me  for  Old  Abe  and  addrest  me  as  "The 
Pra-hayrie  Flower  of  the  West!"  Thinks 
I  you  want  a  offiss  putty  bad.  Another 
man  with  a  gold-heded  cane  and  a  red  nose 
told  Old  Abe  he  was  "a  seckind  Washing 
ton  &  the  Pride  of  the  Boundliss  West." 

Sez  I,  "Square,  you  wouldn't  take  a 
small  post-offiss  if  you  could  git  it,  would 
you?" 

Sez  he,  "A  patrit  is  abuv  them  things, 
sir!" 

[441 


Lincoln  Reads  Artemus  Ward  Aloud 

"There's  a  putty  big  crop  of  patrits  this 
season,  ain't  there,  Squire?"  sez  I,  when 
another  crowd  of  offiss  seekers  pored  in. 
The  house,  dooryard,  barngs,  woodshed 
was  now  all  full,  and  when  another  crowd 
cum  I  told  'em  not  to  go  away  for  want 
of  room  as  the  hog-pen  was  still  empty. 
One  patrit  from  a  small  town  in  Michy- 
gan  went  up  on  top  the  house,  got  into 
the  chimney  and  slid  into  the  parler  where 
Old  Abe  was  endeverin  to  keep  the  hungry 
pack  of  orfice-seekers  from  chawin  him  up 
alive  without  benefit  of  clergy.  The  minit 
he  reached  the  fireplace  he  jumpt  up, 
brusht  the  soot  out  of  his  eyes,  and  yelled: 
"Don't  make  eny  pintment  at  the  Spunk- 
ville  postoffiss  till  you've  read  my  papers. 
All  the  respectful  men  in  our  town  is  sign 
ers  to  that  there  dockyment!" 

"Good  God!"  cried  Old  Abe,  "they  cum 
upon  me  from  the  skize — down  the  chim 
neys,  and  from  the  bowels  of  the  yerth!" 
He  hadn't  more'n  got  them  words  out  of 
his  delikit  mouth  before  two  fat  offiss- 
[45] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

seekers  from  Winconsin,  in  endeverin  to 
crawl  atween  his  legs  for  the  purpuss  of 
applyin  for  the  tollgateship  at  Milwawky, 
upsot  the  President  eleck,  &  he  would  hev 
gone  sprawlin  into  the  fireplace  if  I  hadn't 
caught  him  in  these  arms.  But  I  hadn't 
more'n  stood  him  up  strate  before  another 
man  cum  crashing  down  the  chimney,  his 
head  strikin  me  viliently  again  the  inards 
and  prostratin  my  voluptoous  form  onto 
the  floor.  "Mr.  Linkin,"  shoutid  the  in- 
fatooated  being,  "my  papers  is  signed  by 
every  clergyman  in  our  town,  and  likewise 
the  skoolmaster ! " 

Sez  I,  "You  egrejis  ass,"  gittin  up  & 
brushin  the  dust  from  my  eyes,  "I'll  sign 
your  papers  with  this  bunch  of  bones,  if 
you  don't  be  a  little  more  keerful  how  you 
make  my  bread  basket  a  depot  in  the  futur. 
How  do  you  like  that  air  perfumery?"  sez 
I,  shuving  my  fist  under  his  nose.  "  Them's 
the  kind  of  papers  I'll  giv  you!  Them's 
the  papers  you  want!" 

"But  I  workt  hard  for  the  ticket;    I 
[46] 


Lincoln  Reads  Artemus  Ward  Aloud 

toiled  night  and  day!    The  patrit  should 
be  rewarded!" 

"Virtoo,"  sed  I,  holdin'  the  infatooated 
man  by  the  coat-collar,  "virtoo,  sir,  is  its 
own  reward.  Look  at  me!"  He  did  look 
at  me,  and  qualed  be4  my  gase.  "The 
fact  is,"  I  continued,  lookin'  round  on  the 
hungry  crowd,  "there  is  scacely  a  offiss 
for  every  ile  lamp  carrid  round  durin'  this 
campane.  I  wish  thare  was.  I  wish  thare 
was  furrin  missions  to  be  filled  on  varis 
lonely  Islands  where  eprydemics  rage  in 
cessantly,  and  if  I  was  in  Old  Abe's  place 
I'd  send  every  mother's  son  of  you  to 
them.  What  air  you  here  for?"  I  contin- 
nered,  warmin  up  considerable,  "can't  you 
giv  Abe  a  minit's  peace?  Don't  you  see 
he's  worrid  most  to  death?  Go  home,  you 
miserable  men,  go  home  &  till  the  sile! 
Go  to  peddlin  tinware — go  to  choppin 
wood — go  to  bilin*  sope — stuff  sassengers 
— black  boots — git  a  clerkship  on  sum  re 
spectable  manure  cart — go  round  as  orig 
inal  Swiss  Bell  Ringers — becum  'origenal 
[471 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

and  only'  Campbell  Minstrels — go  to  lec- 
turin  at  50  dollars  a  nite — imbark  in  the 
peanut  bizniss — write  for  the  Ledger — saw 
off  your  legs  and  go  round  givin  concerts, 
with  tuchin  appeals  to  a  charitable  public, 
printed  on  your  handbills — anything  for 
a  honest  living,  but  don't  come  round  here 
drivin  Old  Abe  crazy  by  your  outrajis 
cuttings  up!  Go  home.  Stand  not  upon 
the  order  of  your  goin',  but  go  to  onct! 
Ef  in  five  minits  from  this  time,"  sez  I, 
pullin'  out  my  new  sixteen  dollar  huntin 
cased  watch  and  brandishin'  it  before  their 
eyes,  "Ef  in  five  minits  from  this  time  a 
single  sole  of  you  remains  on  these  here 
premises,  I'll  go  out  to  my  cage  near  by, 
and  let  my  Boy  Constructor  loose!  &  ef 
he  gits  amung  you,  you'll  think  old  Sol- 
ferino  has  cum  again  and  no  mistake!" 
You  ought  to  hev  seen  them  scamper, 
Mr.  Fair.  They  run  of  as  tho  Satun  his- 
self  was  arter  them  with  a  red  hot  ten 
pronged  pitchfork.  In  five  minits  the  prem 
ises  was  clear. 

[48] 


Lincoln  Reads  Artemus  Ward  Aloud 

"How  kin  I  ever  repay  you,  Mr.  Ward, 
for  your  kindness?"  sed  Old  Abe,  advancin 
and  shakin  me  warmly  by  the  hand. 
"How  kin  I  ever  repay  you,  sir?" 

"By  givin  the  whole  country  a  good, 
sound  administration.  By  poerin'  ile  upon 
the  troubled  waturs,  North  and  South. 
By  pursooin'  a  patriotic,  firm,  and  just 
course,  and  then  if  any  State  wants  to 
secede,  let  'em  Sesesh!" 

"How  'bout  my  Cabinit,  Mister  Ward?" 
sed  Abe. 

"Fill  it  up  with  Showmen,  sir!  Show 
men,  is  devoid  of  politics.  They  hain't 
got  any  principles.  They  know  how  to 
cater  for  the  public.  They  know  what  the 
public  wants,  North  &  South.  Showmen, 
sir,  is  honest  men.  Ef  you  doubt  their 
literary  ability,  look  at  their  posters,  and 
see  small  bills!  Ef  you  want  a  Cabinit  as 
is  a  Cabinit  fill  it  up  with  showmen,  but 
don't  call  on  me.  The  moral  wax  figger 
perfeshun  mustn't  be  permitted  to  go  down 
while  there's  a  drop  of  blood  in  these  vains ! 
[49] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

A.  Linkin,  I  wish  you  well!  Ef  Powers  or 
Walcutt  wus  to  pick  out  a  model  for  a 
beautiful  man,  I  scarcely  think  they'd 
sculp  you;  but  ef  you  do  the  fair  thing  by 
your  country  you'll  make  as  putty  a  angel 
as  any  of  us!  A.  Linkin,  use  the  talents 
which  Nature  has  put  into,  you  judishusly 
and  firmly,  and  all  will  be  well !  A.  Linkin, 
adoo!" 

He  shook  me  cordyully  by  the  hand — 
we  exchanged  picters,  so  we  could  gaze 
upon  each  others'  liniments,  when  far 
away  from  one  another — he  at  the  helium 
of  the  ship  of  State,  and  I  at  the  helium 
of  the  show  bizniss — admittance  only  15 
cents. 


Chapter  IV:  Some  Lincoln  Anecdotes 

"IT  ET  us  now  get  back  to  that  room  in 
the  White  House  again.  After  Lin- 
•'*  ^  coin  had  finished  reading  from 
Ward's  book  we  talked  about  the  author. 

The  two  stories  long  accredited  to  Ward 
at  which  Mr.  Lincoln  laughed  most  heart 
ily  that  day  included  the  anecdote  of  the 
gray-haired  lover  who  hoped  to  win  a 
young  wife  and  who,  when  asked  by  a 
neighbor  how  he  was  progressing  with  his 
suit,  answered,  with  enthusiasm,  "All 
right." 

When  the  neighbor  then  asked,  "Has 
she  called  you  *  Honey'  yet?"  the  old  man 
answered,  "Well,  not  exactly  that,  but  she 
called  me  the  next  thing  to  it.  She  has 
called  me  'Old  Beeswax'!" 

Another  story  which  Lincoln  accredited 
to  Ward  had  to  do  with  a  visit  the  latter 
[51] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

was  supposed  to  have  made  in  his  country 
clothes  and  manners  to  a  fashionable  eve 
ning  party.  Ward,  not  wishing  to  show  the 
awkwardness  he  felt,  stepped  boldly  up  to 
an  aristocratic  lady  and  said,  "You  are 
a  very  handsome  woman!"  The  woman 
took  it  to  be  an  insulting  piece  of  rude 
flattery  and  replied,  spitefully,  "I  wish  I 
could  say  the  same  thing  of  you!"  Where 
upon  Ward  boldly  remarked,  "Well,  you 
could  if  you  were  as  big  a  liar  as  I  am!" 

Ward  once  stated  that  Lincoln  told  him 
that  he  was  an  expert  at  raising  corn  to 
fatten  hogs,  but,  unfortunately  for  his 
creditors,  they  were  his  neighbor's  hogs. 

During  this  conversation  the  President 
sat  leaning  back  hi  his  desk  chair  with  one 
long  leg  thrown  over  a  corner  of  the  Cabi 
net  table.  He  had  removed  his  right  cuff 
— I  presume  to  be  better  able  to  sign  his 
name  to  the  various  documents  with  which 
the  table  was  littered — and  he  did  not 
trouble  to  put  it  on  again.  He  wore  a 
black  frock  coat  very  wrinkled  and  shiny, 


Some  Lincoln  Anecdotes 

and  trousers  of  the  same  description.  His 
necktie  was  black  and  one  end  of  it  was 
caught  under  the  flap  of  his  turnover 
collar.  Yet  his  appearance  did  not  give 
one  an  impression  of  disorder;  rather 
he  looked  like  a  neat  workingman  of  the 
better  sort. 

As  I  sat  talking  with  the  President  a 
strong  light  flooded  the  Cabinet  Room 
through  the  great  south  windows.  Out 
side  one  could  see  the  Potomac  River 
sparkling  in  the  bright  winter  sunshine. 
This  strong  illumination  revealed  the  deep 
lines  of  the  President's  face.  He  looked 
so  haggard  and  careworn  after  his  long 
vigil  (he  had  been  at  work  since  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning)  that  I  said: 

"You  are  very  tired.  I  ought  not  to 
stay  here  and  talk  to  you." 

"Please  sit  still,"  he  replied,  quickly. 
"I  am  very  tired  and  I  can  get  rested; 
and  you  are  an  excuse  for  not  letting  any 
body  else  in  until  I  do  get  rested." 

So  I  understood  the  reason,  or  perhaps 
5  [53] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

it  would  be  fairer  to  say  the  excuse,  for 
granting  me  this  remarkable  privilege. 

Somehow  the  subject  of  education  came 
up,  and  when  Lincoln  asked  me  if  I  was 
a  college  man  I  told  him  I  had  left  Yale 
College  Law  School  to  go  to  war.  Then  he 
recounted  an  amusing  experience  which  he 
once  had  in  New  Haven.  He  went  to  the 
old  New  Haven  House  to  spend  the  night, 
and  was  given  a  room  looking  out  on 
Chapel  Street  and  the  Green.  Students 
were  seated  on  the  rail  of  the  fence  across 
the  street,  singing.  Mr.  Lincoln  said  that 
all  he  could  remember  of  Yale  College  as 
a  result  of  that  visit  was  a  continual 
repetition  in  the  song  they  were  singing : 

"My  old  horse  he  came  from  Jerusalem, 
came  from  Jerusalem,  came  from  Jeru 
salem,  leaning  on  the  lamb." 

He  said  whimsically  that  he  thought 
this  was  a  good  sample  of  college  education 
as  he  had  found  it.  Yet  the  President  did 
not  belittle  the  advantages  to  be  gained 
by  a  college  education  properly  and  seri- 
[54] 


Some  Lincoln  Anecdotes 

ously  applied.  He  said  he  often  felt  that 
he  had  missed  a  great  deal  by  his  failure 
to  secure  these  advantages  even  though 
he  thought  the  usual  college  education  was 
inadequate  and  very  impractical.  He  had 
found  in  his  experience  with  the  army  that 
it  took  army  officers  from  college  just  as 
long  to  learn  military  science  as  it  did  a 
young  man  from  a  farm. 

Then  the  President  asked  me  how  I,  as 
a  poor  farmer's  boy,  got  along  at  Yale.  I 
told  him  I  taught  music  in  Yale  to  earn 
part  of  my  living — dug  potatoes  in  the 
afternoon,  and  taught  music  in  the  eve 
ning.  Then  he  got  up  and  walked  up  and 
down  the  room  with  his  hands  behind  him, 
while  he  gave  me  quite  a  discourse  on  his 
opinion  of  music,  and  especially  of  church 
music. 

He  said  the  inconsistency  of  church 
music  was  something  that  astonished  him: 
that  if  you  go  to  any  place  other  than  a 
church  the  music  is  always  appropriate 
for  the  place  and  time.  In  the  theater,  for 
[55] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

example,  they  sing  songs  which  have  some 
connection  with  the  acting.  (Perhaps  that 
example  would  not  apply  to-day.)  But  in 
church  very  often  there  did  not  seem  to 
be  any  relation  whatever  between  what 
the  congregation  or  the  choir  sings  and  the 
sermon.  Then  he  told  me  about  some 
"highfalutin'  songs"  he  had  heard  in 
church,  which  he  said  would  be  ridiculous 
if  it  was  not  in  church;  he  was  disgusted 
with  the  lack  of  sacred  art  and  of  appro 
priateness  in  church  music.  He  finished 
by  saying  that  he  did  not  favor  "dance 
music  at  a  funeral."  There  is  a  good  deal 
of  common  sense  in  that! 

I  do  not  now  recall  just  how  the  subject 
was  introduced,  but  Lincoln  talked  to  me 
about  dreams,  and  he  said  that  while  he 
could  not  see  any  scientific  reason  for  be 
lieving  in  dreams,  nevertheless  that  he  did 
in  a  measure  believe  in  them,  although  he 
could  not  explain  why.  He  said  that  they 
had  undeniably  influenced  him. 

Then  he  spoke  of  dreams  he  had  "since 
[56] 


Some  Lincoln  Anecdotes 

the  war  came  on,"  which  had  influenced 
him  a  great  deal.  He  said,  "There  might 
not  be  much  in  dreams,  but  when  I  dream 
we  have  been  defeated  it  puts  me  on  my 
nerve  to  watch  out  and  see  how  things  are. 
Men  may  say  dreams  are  of  no  account, 
but  they  are  suggestive  to  me,  and  in  that 
respect  of  great  account." 

When  the  President  spoke  of  the  people 
who  were  waiting  to  see  him,  I  said: 

"No  doubt  many  of  them,  like  myself, 
are  strangers  to  you.  How  do  you  select 
those  you  will  let  in  when  you  can't  see 
them  all?" 

He  replied  that  he  decided  a  good  deal 
by  names,  and  then  he  told  me  what 
seemed  a  good  point  to  remember,  that 
he  had  trained  his  memory  in  his  youth 
by  determining  to  remember  people's  faces 
and  names  together.  This  he  had  done 
when  he  was  first  elected  to  the  legislature 
in  Illinois.  He  realized  at  once  when  he 
got  into  the  legislature  that  he  could  not 
make  a  speech  like  the  rest  of  "those  fel- 
[57J 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

lows,"  college  people,  but  he  could  get  a 
personal  acquaintance  and  great  influence 
if  he  would  remember  everybody's  face 
and  everybody's  name;  and  so  he  said  he 
had  acted  upon  the  plan  of  carrying  a 
memorandum  book  around  with  him  and 
setting  down  carefully  the  name  of  each 
man  he  met,  and  then  making  a  little  out 
line  sketch  with  his  pencil  of  some  feature 
of  the  man — his  ears,  nose,  shoulder,  or 
something  which  would  help  him  to  re 
member. 

Lincoln  then  told  me  a  story  about 
James  G.  Blaine  when  the  latter  was  first 
elected  to  Congress.  Blaine  afterward 
repudiated  this  story,  but  it  serves  to  illus 
trate  Lincoln's  thought  none  the  less.  He 
said  that  Blaine  hired  a  private  secretary 
to  help  him  out  in  remembering  people. 
His  system  was  to  have  the  secretary  meet 
all  those  who  entered  the  reception  room 
and  ask  their  names,  where  they  lived, 
what  families  they  belonged  to,  and  all 
the  information  that  could  be  gained 
[58] 


Some  Lincoln  Anecdotes 

about  them  in  a  social  way.  Then,  accord 
ing  to  the  story,  the  secretary  ran  around 
to  the  back  door  to  Mr.  Elaine's  private 
office  and  gave  him  a  full  memorandum 
about  his  callers.  A  few  minutes  later, 
when  the  visitor  was  ushered  in,  the  sec 
retary  told  him  to  "walk  right  in  to  see 
Mr.  Elaine." 

He  would  say  in  the  most  casual  man 
ner:  "Mr.  Elaine  is  in  there.  You  can 
go  right  in." 

Mr.  Elaine  would  get  up,  shake  hands 
with  the  man,  ask  him  how  his  relations 
were,  how  long  it  had  been  since  he  was  in 
the  legislature,  whether  his  wife's  brother 
had  been  successful  in  the  West,  etc.,  until 
the  visitor  came  to  be  perfectly  astounded. 

As  a  result  of  this  Mr.  Elaine  became 
very  famous  for  his  memory  of  names. 
But  even  if  the  story  about  the  source  of 
Elaine's  "memory"  is  untrue,  Lincoln  was 
probably  ahead  of  him  and,  indeed,  of 
any  man  in  this  country;  he  could  re 
member  every  person  he  had  ever  seen  in 
[59] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

twenty  years'  time.  That  was  one  of  the 
things  that  became  evident  when  I  asked 
him  how  he  could  judge  the  visitors.  In 
the  majority  of  cases  he  had  seen  the  man 
or  heard  of  him  in  some  connection,  per 
haps  years  before.  He  also  said  that  he 
judged  strangers  by  their  names  because 
when  he  heard  their  names  he  would  think 
of  other  people  he  did  know  by  that  name, 
and  he  judged  they  might  belong  to  that 
family  and  have  the  same  traits. 

He  admitted   that   he   was   sometimes 
guided  by  the  suggestion  of  Artemus  Ward, 
who  told  him  a  story  of  a  boys'  club  in 
Boston  which  did  not  take  in  any  members 
who  were  not  Irish.     A  boy  came  along 
and  asked  to  be  admitted  to  the  club,  and 
the  members  asked,  "Are  you  Irish?" 
"Oh  yes,"  replied  the  boy,  "I  am  Irish." 
"What  is  your  name?" 
"My  name  is  Ikey  Einstein." 
Lincoln,  smiling,  said,  "The  Irish  boys 
kicked  that  boy  out  forthwith." 

He  said,  "Artemus  Ward,  when  telling 
[601 


Some  Lincoln  Anecdotes 

me  that  story,  confirmed  me  in  my  view 
that  a  name  does  have  something  to  do 
with  the  man.  But,"  Lincoln  added,  "if 
it  is  Smith,  I  have  no  way  of  getting  at  it." 
Then  he  said,  more  seriously,  that  he  had 
to  be  guided  a  great  deal  by  an  instinctive 
impression  of  the  visitor  as  he  came  in 
the  door. 

"Seldom  a  person  sits  down  at  this  table, 
or  desk,  but  I  have  formed  an  opinion  of 
the  man's  disposition  and  traits,  by  an 
instinctive  impression." 

He  acknowledged  that  he  could  not 
always  trust  to  this,  but  was  generally 
guided  by  it  and  found  he  got  along  very 
well  with  it.  Sometimes,  however,  he  did 
make  a  mistake,  as  when  on  one  occa 
sion  he  had  talked  to  a  man  for  half  an 
hour  as  though  he  was  a  hotel  keeper, 
and  found  out  afterward  that  he  was  a 
preacher. 

Through  all  this  conversation  there  had 
run  an  undercurrent  of  whimsicality, 
partly,  no  doubt,  the  conscious  effort  of 
[61] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

a  sorely  tried  mind  to  gain  a  few  minutes' 
respite  from  its  pressing  cares,  but  none 
the  less  showing  a  keen  and  deep-seated 
appreciation  of  the  funny  side  of  life. 
Only  once  did  this  humor  forsake  him, 
and  that  was  when  Lincoln  spoke  of  Tad. 
The  little  boy  had  been  playing  quietly  by 
himself  all  the  time — apparently  he  was 
as  much  at  home  in  the  Cabinet  Room  as 
in  any  other  part  of  the  White  House — 
and  Lincoln  told  me  Tad  had  been  sick 
and  that  it  worried  him. 

Then  he  put  his  head  in  both  his  hands, 
looked  down  at  the  table,  and  said,  "No 
man  ought  to  wish  to  be  President  of  the 
United  States!" 

Still  holding  his  head  in  his  hands,  he 
said  to  me,  "Young  man,  do  not  take  a 
political  office  unless  you  are  compelled  to; 
there  are  times  when  it  is  heart-crushing!" 

He  said  he  had  thought  how  many  a 
mother  and  father  had  lost  their  children 
in  the  war — just  boys. 

"And  I  am  so  anxious  about  my  Tad, 
[621 


Some  Lincoln  Anecdotes 

I  cannot  help  but  think  how  they  must 
feel.  If  Tad  had  died— " 

He  grew  very  sad;  for  a  few  minutes  his 
face  was  gloomy,  and  it  seemed  as  though 
half  a  sob  was  coming  up  in  his  throat. 

Lincoln  was  not  one  of  those  men  who 
go  to  the  extremes  of  grief  or  the  extremes 
of  joy;  but  other  people  have  told  me,  as 
I  myself  now  saw,  that  when  there  came  to 
him  that  seizure  of  deep  sadness  he  had 
to  fight  himself  for  a  few  minutes  to  over 
come  it.  This  impressed  me  that  day  very 
deeply.  Breaking  off  abruptly  from  what 
he  had  been  talking  about — war  and  Arte- 
mus  Ward — and  speaking  suddenly  of  Tad, 
he  had  dropped  down  in  that  dejected 
position,  and  for  a  few  minutes  looked  so 
sad  I  thought  something  awful  must  sud 
denly  have  come  to  his  mind.  But  it 
seemed,  after  all,  to  be  only  the  fear  that 
Tad,  who  was  not  very  well,  might  die. 
Who  can  say  what  vistas  of  thought  that 
idea  may  have  opened. 


Chapter  V:   What  Made  Him  Laugh 

^"TT"^O  many  persons  it  seemed  incon 
gruous  that  there  should  be  any 
**"  thought,  motive,  or  taste  in  com 
mon  between  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the 
droll  Artemus  Ward.  Indeed,  the  great 
biographers  of  Lincoln  have  either  ignored 
the  existence  of  Ward  or  have  referred  to 
him  very  sparingly.  Yet  no  visitor  at  the 
Wlrite  House  seemed  more  welcome  than 
Ward  during  Lincoln's  administration. 
Mr.  Seward,  the  Secretary  of  State,  and 
Mr.  Stanton,  the  Secretary  of  War,  were 
said  to  disapprove  of  Ward's  frequent 
visits,  and  it  was  whispered  to  Mrs.  Ames, 
correspondent  of  the  Independent,,  that 
Lincoln  hinted  to  Ward  that  it  might  be 
best  to  time  his  visits  so  as  to  occur  when 
Mrs.  Lincoln  was  not  at  home.  But  it 
was  a  matter  of  common  gossip  in  "News- 
[64] 


What  Made  Him  Laugh 

paper  Row"  that  there  was  a  strong  and 
true  friendship  between  the  care-burdened 
President  and  the  fun-making  showman, 
whose  real  name  was  Charles  Farrar 
Browne. 

The  strange  contrast  in  their  abilities, 
their  dispositions,  and  their  careers  puz 
zled  the  amateur  psychoanalysts  of  that 
day.  Was  it  merely  an  example  of  the 
attraction  of  opposites?  Lincoln  was 
strong,  athletic,  and  enduring;  Ward  was 
weak,  lazy,  and  changeable.  Lincoln  loved 
work;  Ward  took  the  path  of  least  resist 
ance.  Lincoln  was  a  moderate  eater  and 
lived  firmly  up  to  his  principles  as  a  tee 
totaler;  Ward  drank  anything  sold  at  a 
bar  and  sometimes  was  too  intoxicated  to 
appear  at  his  "wax-figger  show."  Lincoln 
loved  the  classics  and  was  a  good  judge 
of  literature;  Ward  seldom  read  a  classic 
translation.  Lincoln  saved  money  and 
could  carefully  invest  it;  Ward  would  not 
take  the  trouble  to  collect  his  own  salary, 
and  never  was  known  to  make  an  invest- 
[65] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

ment.  Lincoln  laughed  often,  and  on  rare 
occasions  laughed  long  and  loud;  Ward 
never  laughed  in  public  and  in  his  funniest 
moods  never  even  smiled.  Lincoln's  sad 
face,  when  in  repose,  touched  a  chord  of 
sympathy  in  the  souls  of  those  who  knew 
him  best.  Yet  Kingston,  who  was  Ward's 
best  friend,  said  that  Ward's  cold  stare 
awoke  at  once  cyclones  of  riotous  laughter 
in  his  audiences.  Lincoln  was  a  great 
patriotic  leader  of  men  and  wielded  the 
power  of  a  monarch;  Ward  was  a  quiet 
citizen,  who  loved  his  country,  but  had  no 
desire  for  power  or  for  battles.  Strong 
contrasts  these.  Yet  in  a  deep  and  sincere 
friendship  they  were  agreed. 

Of  the  few  cheerful  things  which  entered 
Lincoln's  life  in  those  troubled  and  gloomy 
times,  the  one  which  he  enjoyed  most  was 
Ward's  "Show."  He  thought  this  was  the 
most  downright  comical  thing  that  had 
ever  been  put  before  the  public,  and  he 
laughed  heartily  even  as  he  described  it. 
Ward  had  a  nondescript  collection  of 
[66] 


What  Made  Him  Laugh 

stuffed  animals  which  he  exhibited  upon 
the  stage;  he  told  the  audience  he  found 
it  cheaper  to  stuff  the  animals  once  than 
to  keep  stuffing  them  continually.  They 
consisted  at  one  time  of  a  jack-rabbit  and 
two  mangy  bears.  He  had  also  a  picture 
of  the  Western  plains — the  poorest  one  he 
could  find.  He  would  say,  "The  Indians 
in  this  picture  have  not  come  along  yet." 

One  always  expected  him  to  lecture 
about  his  animals,  but  he  never  did;  in 
fact,  he  scarcely  mentioned  them.  His 
manner  was  that  of  an  utter  idiot,  and  his 
blank  stare,  when  the  audience  laughed  at 
something  he  had  said,  was  enough  in  itself 
to  send  the  whole  hall  into  paroxysms  of 
mirth.  Lincoln  said  to  me  that  day,  "One 
glimpse  of  Ward  would  make  a  culprit 
laugh  when  he  was  being  hung." 

No  doubt  one  reason  why  Lincoln  felt 
kindly  toward  Ward  was  because  the  latter 
was  "most  unselfishly  trying  to  keep  peo 
ple  cheerful  in  a  most  depressing  time.  He 
and  Nasby,"  the  President  said,  "are  fur- 
[67] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

nishing  about  all  the  cheerfulness  we  now 
have  in  this  country."  (Petroleum  V. 
Nasby,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  the 
pen  name  taken  by  David  Ross  Locke  in 
his  witty  letters  from  the  "  Confedrit  Cross 
roads." 

The  humor  of  Ward  may  seem  crude 
to  us  now,  but  in  the  dark  days  of  '64  it 
took  something  more  potent  than  refined 
wit  to  make  people  laugh — just  as  it  took 
a  series  of  ludicrous  and  not  overrefined 
drawings  to  make  England  laugh  in  1916; 
and  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  while 
Ward's  sayings  were  homely  and  sometimes 
savored  strongly  of  the  frontier,  they  were 
never  coarse  or  insinuating. 

But  after  all,  the  best  way  to  learn  what 
Lincoln  really  thought  of  Ward  was  to  ask 
him,  and  I  did  exactly  that.  Also,  I  was 
careful  to  give  close  heed  to  his  words, 
that  I  might  be  able  to  write  them  down 
immediately  afterward.  This,  to  the  best 
of  my  recollection,  was  what  Lincoln  said: 

"I  was  told  the  other  day  by  a  Congress- 
US  1 


What  Made  Him  Laugh 

man  from  Maine  that  Ward  was  driven 
partly  insane  in  his  early  life  by  the  drown 
ing  of  his  intended  bride  in  Norway  Lake. 
I  could  feel  that  in  Ward's  character  some 
how  before  I  was  told  about  it.  Ward 
seems  at  times  so  utterly  forlorn. 

"Nothing  draws  on  my  feelings  like  such 
a  calamity.  I  knew  what  it  was  once. 
Yes!  Yes!  I  know  all  about  it.  One 
never  gets  away  from  it.  I  must  ask  Ward 
to  tell  me  all  about  his  trouble  sometime. 
I  think  that  is  what  makes  him  so  sad  in 
appearances.  Ward  never  laughs  himself, 
unless  he  thinks  it  is  his  duty  to  make  other 
people  laugh.  He  is  surely  right  about  that. 
"Perhaps  Ward's  whisky  drinking  is  all 
an  attempt  to  drown  his  sorrow.  Who 
knows?  It  is  a  mighty  mistake  to  go  to 
drink  for  comfort.  I  should  suppose  the 
memory  of  the  woman,  if  she  was  one 
worth  while,  would  keep  him  from  such  a 
foolish  habit.  I've  been  right  glad  that  I 
let  the  stuff  alone.  There  was  plenty  of 
it  about. 
6  [691 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

"Ward  told  me  one  day  that  he  took  to 
funny  work  as  a  makeshift  for  a  decent 
living;  and  that  he  found  it  to  be  an 
honest  way  to  go  about  doing  good.  I 
would  have  done  that  myself  if  I  had  not 
found  harder  work  at  the  law. 

"I  have  agreed  with  many  people  who 
think  that  Ward  should  be  in  some  trade 
or  writing  books.  But  I  don't  know  about 
it.  He  has  a  special  kind  of  mind,  and, 
rightly  used,  he  would  make  an  excellent 
teacher  of  mental  science.  In  one  way  of 
looking  at  it  his  life  is  wasted.  But  if  he 
refreshes  and  cheers  other  people  as  he  does 
me,  I  can't  see  how  he  could  make  a  better 
investment  of  his  life.  I  smile  and  smile 
here  as  one  by  one  the  crowd  passes  me  to 
shake  hands,  until  it  is  a  week  before  my 
face  gets  straight.  But  it  is  a  duty.  I 
could  defeat  our  whole  army  to-morrow  by 
looking  glum  at  a  reception  or  by  refusing  to 
smile  for  three  consecutive  hours.1  Ward 
says  he  carries  a  bottle  of  sunshine  in  *the 

1  The  italics  are  the  author's. — ED. 
[70] 


What  Made  Him  Laugh 

other  pocket,'  to  treat  his  friends.    I  like 
that  idea. 

"Ward  is  dreadfully  misunderstood  by  a 
lot  of  dull  people.  They  insist  on  taking 
him  seriously.  An  old  lady  in  Baltimore 
held  me  up  one  night  after  I  had  told  some 
of  Artemus  Ward's  remarks,  and  she  may 
not  have  forgiven  me  yet.  I  told  his  tale 
of  the  rich  land  out  in  Iowa,  where  the  farm 
er  threw  a  cucumber  seed  as  far  as  he 
could  and  started  out  on  a  run  for  his 
house.  But  the  cucumber  vine  overtook 
him  and  he  found  a  seed  cucumber  in  his 
pocket. 

"At  that  the  old  lady  opened  her  eyes 
and  mouth,  but  made  no  remark.  Once 
more  I  tried  her,  by  telling  how  Ward 
knew  a  lady  who  went  for  a  porous  plaster 
and  the  druggist  told  her  to  place  it  any 
where  on  her  trunk.  Not  having  a  trunk 
or  box  in  the  house,  she  put  it  on  her  band 
box,  and  the  next  day  reported  that  it  was 
so  powerful  that  it  drew  her  pink  bonnet 
all  out  of  shape. 

[711 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

"That  was  more  than  the  conscientious 
old  saint  could  stand,  and  after  supper  she 
called  me  aside  and  told  me  that  I  ought 
to  know  that  man  Ward,  or  whoever  it 
was,  'was  an  out-and-out  liar/ 

"That  makes  me  think  of  a  colored 
preacher  who  worked  here  on  the  grounds 
through  the  week,  and  who  loved  the 
deep  waters  of  theology  in  which  he  floun 
dered  daily.  One  evening  I  asked  him 
why  he  did  not  laugh  on  Sunday,  and  when 
he  said  it  was  because  it  was  'suthin' 
frivlus,'  I  told  him  that  the  Bible  said 
God  laughed. 

"The  old  man  came  to  the  door  several 
days  after  that  and  said,  'Marse  Linkum, 
I've  been  totin'  dat  yar  Bible  saying  "God 
larfed,"  and  I've  'eluded  dat  it  mus'  jes' 
tak'  a  joke  as  big  as  der  universe  ter  mak 
God  larf.  Dar  ain't  no  sech  jokes  roun' 
dis  yere  White  House  on  Sunday.' 

"Well,  let  us  get  back  to  Ward  and  begin 
de  novo.  And,  by  the  way,  that  was  the 
first  Latin  phrase  I  ever  heard.  But  I  like 
[721 


What  Made  Him  Laugh 

Ward,  because  all  his  fun  and  all  his  yarns 
are  as  clean  as  spring  water.  He  doesn't 
insinuate  or  suggest  approval  of  evil.  He 
doesn't  ridicule  true  religion.  He  never 
speaks  slightingly  or  grossly  of  woman. 
He  is  a  one-hundred-carat  man  in  his 
motives.  I  am  often  accredited  with  tell 
ing  disgraceful  barroom  stories,  and  some 
times  see  them  in  print,  but  I. have  no 
time  to  contradict  them.  Perhaps  people 
forget  them  soon.  I  hope  so.  I  don't 
know  how  I  came  by  the  name  of  a  story 
teller.  It  is  not  a  fame  I  would  seek.  But 
I  have  tried  to  use  as  many  as  I  could 
find  that  were  good  so  as  to  cheer  up  peo 
ple  in  this  hard  world. 

"Ward  said  that  he  did  not  know  much 
about  education  in  the  schools,  but  he  had 
an  idea  the  training  there  was  more  to 
make  the  child  think  quickly  and  think 
accurately  than  to  memorize  facts.  If  that 
were  the  case  he  thought  a  textbook  on 
bright  jokes  would  be  a  valuable  addition 
to  a  school  curriculum. 
[73] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

"Ward's  sharp  jokes  do  discipline  the 
mind.  Ward  told  Tad  last  summer  that 
Adam  was  snaked  out  of  Eden,  and  that 
Goliath  was  surprised  when  David  hit  him 
because  such  a  thing  never  entered  his 
head  before.  Ward  told  Mr.  Chase  that 
his  father  was  an  artist  who  was  true  to 
life,  for  he  made  a  scarecrow  so  bad  that 
the  crows  brought  back  the  corn  they  had 
stolen  two  years  before.  Ward  believes 
that  the  riddles  of  Sampson,  the  fables  of 
jEsop,  the  questions  of  Socrates,  and  sums 
in  mathematics  are  all  mind  awakeners 
similar  in  effect  to  the  discipline  of  real 
humor." 

Knowing  that  Lincoln  had  suffered  a 
nearly  fatal  heart  blow  in  his  youth 
through  the  tragic  death  of  his  first  love, 
I  was  interested,  years  after  this  interview 
with  the  President,  to  learn  that  there  had 
been  a  startling  occurrence  of  a  very  simi 
lar  nature  in  the  early  life  of  Ward.  This 
has  been  almost  universally  overlooked. 
Even  his  most  intimate  friends,  includ- 
[74] 


What  Made  Him  Laugh 

ing  Robertson,  Kingston,  Setchell,  Coe, 
Carleton,  and  Rider,  make  no  mention 
of  the  tragic  death  of  one  of  Ward's 
earliest  girl  friends,  Maude  Myrick,  then 
residing  with  relatives  in  Norway,  Maine. 
The  township  of  Norway  adjoins  Water- 
ford,  where  Ward  was  born,  and  where 
he  lived  until  he  was  nineteen.  None  of 
Ward's  biographers  give  details  of  his 
early  life  on  the  farm,  and  none  appear 
even  to  have  heard  of  Maude  Myrick. 

In  1874  a  reporter  of  the  Boston  Daily 
Traveler  was  sent  to  Waterford  to  find  the 
living  neighbors  of  Ward's  family  and 
write  a  sketch  of  the  village  and  people. 
In  the  report  the  barest  mention  was  made 
of  Maude  Myrick.  It  stated  that  a  cousin 
of  Ward's  remembered  that  his  early  in 
fatuation  for  a  girl  in  the  adjoining  town 
ship  "broke  him  all  up"  when  she  was 
accidentally  drowned  at  the  inlet  of  Nor 
way  Lake.  Search  for  her  genealogy  at  this 
late  date  seems  vain.  Ward  appears  never 
to  have  mentioned  her  name  but  once 
[75] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

after  her  death,  and  that  was  on  his  own 
dying  bed.  The  only  allusion  possibly  con 
cerning  her  that  he  ever  made  was  a  brief 
note  in  an  autograph  album,  preserved  in 
Portland,  Maine,  in  which  he  wrote:  "As 
for  opposites;  the  happiest  place  for  me  is 
Tiffin,  and  the  saddest  is  a  bridge  over  the 
Norway  brook." 

If  the  historian  could  be  sure  that  the 
vague  rumor  was  fact  and  that  the  coun 
try  lass  and  the  farmer's  son  were  lovers, 
that  the  place  of  her  sudden  death  at  the 
bridge  over  the  inlet  to  Norway  Lake, 
halfway  between  their  homes,  was  their 
trysting  place,  it  would  make  clear  the 
chief  reason  for  Abraham  Lincoln's  tender 
interest  in  Artemus  Ward.  That  fact 
would  also  account  in  a  large  degree  for 
Ward's  eccentric,  inimitable  humor.  All 
the  great  humorists  from  Charles  Lamb  to 
Josh  Billings  were  broken-hearted  in  their 
youth.  Great  geniuses  have  often  been 
developed  by  the  same  sad  experience.  It 
often  costs  much  to  be  truly  great. 
[76] 


What  Made  Him  Laugh 

Previous  to  his  sixteenth  year  the  life  of 
Charles  Farrar  Browne  was  that  of  a  New 
England  country  boy  with  parents  who 
were  industrious,  honest,  and  poor.  The 
family  needs  were  not  of  the  extreme  kind 
which  are  found  in  the  slums  of  the  city, 
but  existence  depended  on  incessant  toil 
and  the  most  critical  economy.  Squire 
Browne,  the  father  of  the  future  "Artemus 
Ward,"  was  a  farmer  who  could  also  use 
surveying  instruments  with  the  skill  of 
New  England  common  sense. 

His  mother  was  a  strong,  industrious 
woman  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  stock.  She 
encouraged  home  study  and  made  the 
long  winter  evenings  the  occasion  for  moral 
and  mental  instruction.  The  district  school 
was  of  little  use  to  her  children,  as  they 
could  "  outteach  the  teacher."  But  Charlie 
was  educated  beyond  his  years  by  the 
books  which  his  parents  brought  into  the 
home.  At  fifteen  years  of  age,  his  father 
having  died  two  years  previously,  he  was 
sent  to  Skowhegan,  Maine,  to  learn  the 
[77] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

trade  of  a  printer  in  the  office  of  the  Skow- 
hegan  Clarion. 

His  parents  had  not  intended  that  he 
should  be  permanently  a  printer;  the  in 
ability  to  care  for  the  growing  boy  at  home 
evidently  induced  them  to  seek  a  trade  for 
him  by  which  he  could  earn  a  living  while 
studying  for  the  ministry.  But  the  tragic 
events  or  the  unaccountable  mental  revo 
lution  of  those  unrecorded  years  turned 
away  all  the  hopes  of  his  parents  and  sent 
his  soul  into  rebellion  against  such  a  career. 
Nevertheless,  a  deep  good  nature  remained 
intact  and  the  altruistic  qualities  of  his 
disposition  proved  to  be  permanent.  He 
wrote  to  Shillabar  ("Mrs.  Partington")  of 
Boston  that  "the  man  who  has  no  care  for 
fun  himself  has  more  time  to  cheer  up  his 
neighbors."  The  only  thing  that  ever 
cheered  Ward  into  chuckling  laughter  was 
to  meditate  by  himself  on  the  effect  of  a 
squib  or  description  he  was  composing  on 
"some  old  codger  on  a  barrel  by  the 
country  grocery." 

[78] 


What  Made  Him  Laugh 

Ward  was  never  contented  or  fully 
happy.  He  traveled  about  from  place  to 
place,  often  leaving  without  collecting  his 
wages.  He  was  a  typesetter  and  reporter 
at  Tiffin,  Ohio,  at  Toledo,  and  at  Cleve 
land.  When  Mr.  J.  W.  Gray  of  the  Cleve 
land  Plain  Dealer  secured  Ward's  services 
as  a  reporter,  Ward  was  twenty -four  years 
old  and  thought  to  be  hopelessly  indolent 
by  his  previous  employer.  He  soon  be 
came  known  as  "that  fool  who  writes  for 
the  Plain  Dealer";  and  his  comic  situations 
and  surprising  arguments  were  soon  the 
general  theme  of  conversation  in  the  city. 
He  was  famous  in  a  month. 

It  was  there  and  then  that  he  assumed 
the  pen  name  of  Artemus  Ward.  He  began 
to  give  his  humorous  public  talks  in  1862 
and  was  successful  from  the  first  evening. 
His  writings  for  Vanity  Fair,  New  York, 
and  all  his  lectures  were  clearly  original. 
He  could  never  be  accused  of  plagiarism 
or  imitation.  Indeed,  no  one  on  earth 
could  repeat  his  lectures  with  success  or 
[79] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

equal  Ward  in  continual  fun  making.  He 
often  assumed  the  role  of  an  idiot,  but  at 
the  same  time  made  the  wisest  observations 
and  the  cutest  sarcasms.  His  appearance  on 
the  stage  even  before  he  made  his  mechani 
cal  nod  was  greeted  with  loud,  hearty,  and 
prolonged  laughter.  The  saddest  forgot 
his  sorrow,  the  most  sedate  gentleman 
began  to  shake,  and  the  crusty  old  maid 
broke  out  into  the  Ha!  Ha!  of  a  girl  of 
sixteen. 

We  may  read  Ward's  writings  and  feel 
something  of  his  absurd  humor  when  we 
recall  his  posture  as  he  stated  solemnly 
that  his  wife's  feet  "were  so  large  that  her 
toes  came  around  the  corner  two  minutes 
before  she  came  along";  but  to  feel  the 
full  force  of  the  absurdity  one  needs  to  see 
Ward's  seeming  impatience  that  anyone 
should  take  it  as  a  joke  or  disbelieve  his 
plain  statement. 

Some  cynical  persons  saw  in  Lincoln's 
friendship  a  move  to  secure  Ward's  in 
fluence  as  a  popular  writer  for  the  help  of 
[801 


What  Made  Him  Laugh 

his  political  party.  Now  that  Mr.  Lincoln 
is  more  fully  understood,  no  one  would 
accuse  him  of  any  such  a  hypocritical  or 
unworthy  motive.  He  would  have  been 
frank  with  Ward  even  though  the  latter 
was  needed  to  aid  the  sacred  cause  of 
human  liberty. 

Samuel  Bowles  of  the  Springfield  Repub 
lican,  writing  on  Artemus  Ward's  death 
in  1866,  said,  "Ward  is  said  not  to  have 
seen  a  well  day  after  the  death  of  President 
Lincoln."  It  was  a  true  friendship,  be 
yond  a  doubt. 


Chapter  VI:   Humor  in  the 
Political  Situation 

AONG  the  articles  published  by 
Artemus  Ward  were  the  following 
references  to  Lincoln's  political 
life,  which  greatly  pleased  Mr.  Lincoln. 
He  often  showed  the  worn  clippings  to  his 
intimate  friends.  They  lose  much  of  the 
keen  wit  of  their  composition  by  the 
changes  which  the  years  have  wrought  in 
their  local  setting.  Almost  every  word 
had  a  humorous  and  wise  inference  or 
thrust  which  cannot  be  recognized  by  the 
modern  reader.  But  they  retain  enough 
still  to  be  wonderfully  funny. 

The  tattered  clippings  are  no  more,  of 
course,  but  I  have  gone  back  to  Ward's 
book  and  give  below  the  stories  which  so 
amused  Lincoln. 

[821 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

JOY   IN  THE   HOUSE   OF  WARD 

DEAR  SIRS: 

I  take  my  pen  in  hand  to  inform  you 
that  I  am  in  a  state  of  great  bliss,  and 
trust  these  lines  will  find  you  injoyin  the 
same  blessins.  I'm  reguvinated.  I've 
found  the  immortal  waters  of  yooth,  so  to 
speak,  and  am  as  limber  and  frisky  as  a 
two-year-old  steer,  and  in  the  futur  them 
boys  which  sez  to  me  "go  up,  old  Bawld 
hed,"  will  do  so  at  the  peril  of  their  hazard, 
individooally.  I'm  very  happy.  My  house 
is  full  of  joy,  and  I  have  to  git  up  nights 
and  larf !  Sumtimes  I  ax  myself  "is  it  not 
a  dream?"  &  suthin  withinto  me  sez  "it 
air";  but  when  I  look  at  them  sweet  little 
critters  and  hear  'em  squawk,  I  know  it 
is  a  reality — 2  realitys,  I  may  say — and  I 
feel  gay. 

I  returnd  from  the  Summer  Campane 

with  my  unparaleld  show  of  wax  works  and 

livin  wild  Beests  of  Pray  in  the  early  part 

of  this  munth.    The  peple  of  Baldinsville 

[83] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

met  me  cordully  and  I  immejitly  commenst 
restin  myself  with  my  famerly.  The  other 
nite  while  I  was  down  to  the  tavurn  tostin 
my  shins  agin  the  bar  room  fire  &  amuzin 
the  krowd  with  sum  of  my  adventurs,  who 
shood  cum  in  bare  heded  &  terrible  excited 
but  Bill  Stokes,  who  sez,  sez  he,  "Old  Ward, 
there's  grate  doins  up  to  your  house." 

Sez  I,  "William,  how  so?" 

Sez  he,  "Bust  my  gizzud  but  it's  grate 
doins,"  &  then  he  larfed  as  if  he'd  kill 
hisself. 

Sez  I,  risin  and  puttin  on  a  austeer  look, 
"William,  I  woodunt  be  a  fool  if  I  had 
common  cents." 

But  he  kept  on  larfin  till  he  was  black 
in  the  face,  when  he  fell  over  on  to  the 
bunk  where  the  hostler  sleeps,  and  in  a 
still  small  voice  sed,  "Twins!"  I  ashure 
you  gents  that  the  grass  didn't  grow  under 
my  feet  on  my  way  home,  &  I  was  follered 
by  a  enthoosiastic  throng  of  my  feller  sit- 
terzens,  who  hurrard  for  Old  Ward  at  the 
top  of  their  voises.  I  found  the  house 
[84] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

chock  full  of  peple.  Thare  was  Mis  Square 
Baxter  and  her  three  grown-up  darters, 
lawyer  Perkinses  wife,  Taberthy  Ripley, 
young  Eben  Parsuns,  Deakun  Simmuns 
folks,  the  Skoolmaster,  Doctor  Jordin, 
etsetterry,  etsetterry.  Mis  Ward  was  in 
the  west  room,  which  jines  the  kitchen. 
Mis  Square  Baxter  was  mixin  suthin  in  a 
dipper  before  the  kitchin  fire,  &  a  small 
army  of  female  wimin  were  rushin  wildly 
round  the  house  with  bottles  of  camfire, 
peaces  of  flannil,  &c.  I  never  seed  such  a 
hubbub  in  my  natral  born  dase.  I  cood 
not  stay  in  the  west  room  only  a  minit,  so 
strung  up  was  my  feelins,  so  I  rusht  out 
and  ceased  my  dubbel  barrild  gun. 

"What  upon  airth  ales  the  man?"  sez 
Taberthy  Ripley.  "Sakes  alive,  what  air 
you  doin?"  &  she  grabd  me  by  the  coat 
tales.  "What's  the  matter  with  you?" 
she  continnerd. 

"Twins,  marm,"  sez  I,  "twins!" 
"I  know  it,"  sez  she,  coverin  her  pretty 
face  with  her  aprun. 
7  [85] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

"Wall,"  sez  I,  "that's  what's  the  matter 
with  me!" 

"Wall,  put  down  that  air  gun,  you 
pesky  old  fool,"  sed  she. 

"No,  marm,"  sez  I,  "this  is  a  Nashunal 
day.  The  glory  of  this  here  day  isn't  con 
fined  to  Baldinsville  by  a  darn  site.  On 
yonder  woodshed,"  sed  I,  drawin  myself 
up  to  my  full  hite  and  speakin  in  a  show 
act  in  voice,  "  will  I  fire  a  Nashunal  saloot ! " 
sayin  whitch  I  tared  myself  from  her  grasp 
and  rusht  to  the  top  of  the  shed  whare  I 
blazed  away  until  Square  Baxter's  hired 
man  and  my  son  Artemus  Juneyer  cum 
and  took  me  down  by  mane  force. 

On  returnin  to  the  Kitchin  I  found  quite 
a  lot  of  peple  seated  be4  the  fire,  a  talkin 
the  event  over.  They  made  room  for  me  & 
I  sot  down.  "  Quite  a  eppisode,"  sed  Docter 
Jordin,  litin  his  pipe  with  a  red-hot  coal. 

"Yes,"  sed  I,  "2  eppisodes,  waying 
abowt  18  pounds  jintly." 

"A  perfeck  coop  de  tat,"  sed  the  skool- 

master. 

[86] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

"E  pluribus  unum,  in  proprietor  per- 
sony,"  sed  I,  thinking  I'd  let  him  know  I 
understood  furrin  langwidges  as  well  as  he 
did,  if  I  wasn't  a  skoolmaster. 

"It  is  indeed  a  momentious  event,"  sed 
young  Eben  Parsuns,  who  has  been  2 
quarters  to  the  Akademy. 

"I  never  heard  twins  called  by  that  name 
afore,"  sed  I,  "But  I  spose  it's  all  rite." 

"We  shall  soon  have  Wards  enuff,"  sed 
the  editer  of  the  Baldinsville  Bugle  of 
Liberty,  who  was  lookin  over  a  bundle  of 
exchange  papers  in  the  corner,  "to  apply 
to  the  legislater  for  a  City  Charter!" 

"Good  for  you,  old  man!"  sed  I;  "giv 
that  air  a  conspickius  place  in  the  next 
Bugle." 

"How  redicklus,"  sed  pretty  Susan 
Fletcher,  coverin  her  face  with  her  knittin 
work  &  larfin  like  all  possest. 

"Wall,  for  my  part,"  sed  Jane  Maria 
Peasley,  who  is  the  Grossest  old  made  in 
the  world,  "I  think  you  all  act  like  a 
pack  of  fools." 

[871 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

Sez  I,  "Mis.  Peasly,  air  you  a  parent?" 

Sez  she,  "No,  I  ain't." 

Sez  I,  "Mis.  Peasly,  you  never  will  be." 

She  left. 

We  sot  there  talkin  &  larfin  until  "the 
switchin  hour  of  nite,  when  grave  yards 
yawn  &  Josts  troop  4th,"  as  old  Bill 
Shakespire  aptlee  obsarves  in  his  dramy  of 
John  Sheppard,  esq,  or  the  Moral  House 
Breaker,  when  we  broke  up  &  disbursed. 

Muther  &  children  is  a  doin  well  &  as 
Resolushhuns  is  the  order  of  the  day  I 
will  feel  obleeged  if  you'll  insurt  the 
follerin — 

Whereas,  two  Eppisodes  has  happined 
up  to  the  undersined's  house,  which  is 
Twins;  &  Whereas  I  like  this  stile,  sade 
twins  bein  of  the  male  perswashun  &  both 
boys;  there4  Be  it — 

Resolved,  That  to  them  nabers  who  did 
the  fare  thing  by  sade  Eppisodes  my  hart 
felt  thanks  is  doo. 

Resolved,  That  I  do  most  hartily  thank 
Engine  Ko.  No.  17,  who,  under  the  im- 
[88] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

preshun  from  the  fuss  at  my  house  on  that 
auspishus  nite  that  thare  was  a  konflagra- 
tion  goin  on,  kum  galyiantly  to  the  spot, 
but  kindly  refraned  from  squirtin. 

Resolved,  That  frum  the  Bottum  of  my 
Sole  do  I  thank  the  Baldinsville  brass  band 
fur  givin  up  the  idea  of  Sarahnadin  me, 
both  on  that  great  nite  &  sinse. 

Resolved,  That  my  thanks  is  doo  several 
members  of  the  Baldinsville  meetin  house 
who  for  3  whole  dase  hain't  kalled  me  a 
sinful  skoffer  or  intreeted  me  to  mend  my 
wicked  wase  and  jine  sade  meetin  house 
to  onct. 

Resolved,  That  my  Boozum  teams  with 
meny  kind  einoshuns  towards  the  follerin 
individoouls,  to  whit  namelee  —  Mis. 
Square  Baxter,  who  Jenerusly  refoozed  to 
take  a  sent  for  a  bottle  of  camfire;  lawyer 
Perkinses  wife  who  rit  sum  versis  on  the 
Eppisodes;  the  Editer  of  the  Baldinsville 
Bugle  of  Liberty,  who  nobly  assisted  me  in 
wollupin  my  Kangeroo,  which  sagashus 
little  cuss  seriusly  disturbed  the  Eppisodes 
[89] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

by  his  outrajus  screetchins  &  kickins  up; 
Mis.  Hirum  Doolittle,  who  kindly  furnisht 
sum  cold  vittles  at  a  tryin  time,  when  it 
wasunt  konvenient  to  cook  vittles  at  my 
hous;  &  the  Peasleys,  Parsunses  &  Wat- 
sunses  fur  there  meny  ax  of  kindness. 
Trooly  yures, 

ARTEMUS  WAKD. 

THE  CRISIS 

[This  Oration  was  delivered  before  the  commencement  of 
the  war] 

On  returnin  to  my  humsted  in  Baldins- 
ville,  Injianny,  resuntly,  my  feller  sitter- 
zens  extended  a  invite  for  me  to  norate  to 
'em  on  the  Krysis.  I  excepted  &  on  larst 
Toosday  nite  I  peared  be4  a  C  of  upturned 
faces  in  the  Red  Skool  House.  I  spoke 
nearly  as  f oilers: 

Baldinsvillins:  Heartto4,  as  I  have 
numerously  obsarved,  I  have  abstrained 
from  having  any  sentimunts  or  principles, 
my  pollertics,  like  my  religion,  bein  of  a 
exceedin  accommodatin  character.  But 
[90] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

the  lack  can't  be  no  longer  disgised  that  a 
Krysis  is  onto  us,  &  I  feel  it's  my  dooty  to 
accept  your  invite  for  one  consecutive  nite 
only.  I  spose  the  inflammertory  individ- 
ooals  who  assisted  in  projucing  this  Krysis 
know  what  good  she  will  do,  but  I  ain't 
'shamed  to  state  that  I  don't  scacely.  But 
the  Krysis  is  hear.  She's  bin  hear  for 
sevral  weeks,  &  Goodness  nose  how  long 
she'll  stay.  But  I  venter  to  assert  that 
she's  rippin  things.  She's  knockt  trade 
into  a  cockt  up  hat  and  chaned  Bizness  of 
all  kinds  tighter  nor  I  ever  chaned  any  of 
my  livin  wild  Beests.  Alow  me  to  hear 
dygress  &  stait  that  my  Beests  at  presnt 
is  as  harmless  as  the  newborn  Babe. 
Ladys  &  gentlemen  neen't  hav  no  fears 
on  that  pint.  To  resoom — Altho  I  can't 
exactly  see  what  good  this  Krysis  can  do, 
I  can  very  quick  say  what  the  origernal 
cawz  of  her  is.  The  origernal  cawz  is  Our 
Afrikan  Brother.  I  was  into  BARNIM'S 
Moozeum  down  to  New  York  the  other 
day  &  saw  that  exsentric  Etheopian,  the 
[91] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

What  Is  It.  Sez  I,  "Mister  What  Is  It, 
you  folks  air  raisin  thunder  with  this  grate 
country.  You're  gettin  to  be  ruther  more 
numeris  than  interestin.  It  is  a  pity  you 
coodent  go  orf  sumwhares  by  yourselves, 
&  be  a  nation  of  What  Is  Its,  tho'  if  you'll 
excoose  me,  I  shooden't  care  about  marryin 
among  you.  No  dowt  you're  exceedin 
charmin  to  hum,  but  your  stile  of  luvliness 
isn't  adapted  to  this  cold  climit."  He  larfed 
into  my  face,  which  rather  Riled  me,  as  I 
had  been  perfeckly  virtoous  and  respect 
able  in  my  observashuns.  So  sez  I,  turnin 
a  leetle  red  in  the  face,  I  spect,  "Do  you 
hav  the  unblushin  impoodents  to  say  you 
folks  haven't  raised  a  big  mess  of  thunder 
in  this  brite  land,  Mister  What  Is  It?" 
He  larfed  agin,  wusser  nor  be4,  whareupon 
I  up  and  sez,  "Go  home,  Sir,  to  Afriky's 
burnin  shores  &  taik  all  the  other  What  Is 
Its  along  with  you.  Don't  think  we  can 
spair  your  interestin  picters.  You  What 
Is  Its  air  on  the  pint  of  smashin  up  the 
gratest  Guv'ment  ever  erected  by  man,  & 
[92] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

you  actooally  hav  the  owdassity  to  larf 
about  it.  Go  home,  you  low  cuss!" 

I  was  workt  up  to  a  high  pitch,  &  I  pro 
ceeded  to  a  Restorator  &  cooled  orf  with 
some  little  fishes  biled  in  ile — I  b'leeve 
thay  call  'em  sardeens. 

Feller  Sitterzuns,  the  Afrikan  may  be 
Our  Brother.  Sevral  hily  respectyble  gen 
tlemen,  and  sum  talentid  females  tell  us 
so,  &  fur  argyment's  sake  I  mite  be  in- 
jooced  to  grant  it,  tho'  I  don't  beleeve  it 
myself.  But  the  Afrikan  isn't  our  sister 
&  our  wife  &  our  uncle.  He  isn't  sevral 
of  our  brothers  &  all  our  fust  wife's  re- 
lashuns.  He  isn't  our  grandfather,  and 
our  grate  grandfather,  and  our  Aunt  in 
the  country.  Scacely.  &  yit  numeris  per 
sons  would  have  us  think  so.  It's  troo  he 
runs  Congress  &  sevral  other  public  gros- 
serys,  but  then  he  ain't  everybody  &  every 
body  else  likewise.  [Notiss  to  bizness  men 
of  VANITY  FAIR:  Extry  charg  fur  this  larst 
remark.  It's  a  goak. — A.  W.] 

But  we've  got  the  Afrikan,  or  ruther  he's 
[93] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

got  us,  &  now  what  air  we  going  to  do 
about  it?  He's  a  orful  noosanse.  Praps 
he  isn't  to  blame  fur  it.  Praps  he  was 
creatid  fur  sum  wise  purpuss,  like  the 
measles  and  New  Englan  Rum,  but  it's 
mity  hard  to  see  it.  At  any  rate  he's  no 
good  here,  &  as  I  statid  to  Mister  What  Is 
It,  it's  a  pity  he  cooden't  go  orf  sumwhares 
quietly  by  hisself ,  whare  he  cood  wear  red 
weskits  &  speckled  neckties,  &  gratterfy  his 
ambishun  in  varis  interestin  wase,  without 
havin  a  eternal  fuss  kickt  up  about  him. 

Praps  I'm  bearing  down  too  hard  upon 
Cuffy.  Cum  to  think  on  it,  I  am.  He 
woodn't  be  sich  a  infernal  noosanse  if  white 
peple  would  let  him  alone.  He  mite  indeed 
be  interestin.  And  now  I  think  of  it,  why 
can't  the  white  peple  let  him  alone.  What's 
the  good  of  continnerly  stirrin  him  up  with 
a  ten-foot  pole?  He  isn't  the  sweetest  kind 
of  Perfoomery  when  in  a  natral  stait. 

Feller  Sitterzens,  the  Union's  in  danger. 
The  black  devil  Disunion  is  trooly  here, 
starin  us  all  squarely  in  the  f ase !  We  must 
[94] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

drive  him  back.  Shall  we  make  a  2nd 
Mexico  of  ourselves?  Shall  we  sell  our 
birthrite  for  a  mess  of  potash?  Shall  one 
brother  put  the  knife  to  the  throat  of 
anuther  brother?  Shall  we  mix  our  whisky 
with  each  other's  blud?  Shall  the  star 
spangled  Banner  be  cut  up  into  dishcloths? 
Standin  here  in  this  here  Skoolhouse,  upon 
my  nativ  shore  so  to  speak,  I  anser — Nary ! 

Oh  you  fellers  who  air  raisin  this  row,  & 
who  in  the  fust  place  startid  it,  I'm  'shamed 
of  you.  The  Showman  blushes  for  you, 
from  his  boots  to  the  topmost  hair  upon  his 
wenerable  hed. 

Feller  Sitterzens:  I  am  in  the  Sheer  & 
Yeller  leaf.  I  shall  peg  out  1  of  these  dase. 
But  while  I  do  stop  here  I  shall  stay  in  the 
Union.  I  know  not  what  the  supervizers 
of  Baldinsville  may  conclude  to  do,  but  for 
one,  I  shall  stand  by  the  Stars  &  Stripes. 
Under  no  circumstances  whatsomever  will 
I  sesesh.  Let  every  Stait  in  the  Union 
sesesh  &  let  Palmetter  flags  flote  thicker 
nor  shirts  on  Square  Baxter's  close  line, 
[95] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

still  will  I  stick  to  the  good  old  flag.  The 
country  may  go  to  the  devil,  but  I  won't! 
And  next  Summer  when  I  start  out  on  my 
campane  with  my  Show,  wharever  I  pitch 
my  little  tent,  you  shall  see  floatin  prowdly 
from  the  center  pole  thereof  the  Amerikan 
Flag,  with  nary  a  star  wiped  out,  nary  a 
stripe  less,  but  the  same  old  flag  that  has 
allers  flotid  thar !  &  the  price  of  admishun 
will  be  the  same  it  allers  was — 15  cents, 
children  half  price. 

Feller  Sitterzens,  I  am  dun.  Accordingly 
I  squatted. 

WAX    FIGURES    VERSUS   SHAKSPEARE 
ONTO  THE  WING 1859. 

MR.  EDITOR. 

I  take  my  Pen  in  hand  to  inform  yu  that 
I'm  in  good  helth  and  trust  these  few  lines 
will  find  yu  injoyin  the  same  blessins.  I 
wood  also  state  Ahat  I'm  now  on  the  sum- 
mir  kampan^.  As  the  Poit  sez — 

ime  erflote,  ime  erflote 
On  the  Swift  rollin  tied 
An  the  Rovir  is  free. 
[961 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

Bizness  is  scacely  middlin,  but  Sirs  I 
manige  to  pay  for  my  foode  and  raiment 
puncktooally  and  without  no  grumblin. 
The  barked  arrers  of  slandur  has  bin  leviled 
at  the  undersined  moren  onct  sins  heze  bin 
into  the  show  bizness,  but  I  make  bold  to 
say  no  man  on  this  footstule  kan  trooth- 
fully  say  I  ever  ronged  him  or  eny  of  his 
folks.  I'm  travelin  with  a  tent,  which  is 
better  nor  hirin  hauls.  My  show  konsists 
of  a  serious  of  wax  works,  snakes,  a  paner- 
amy  kalled  a  Grand  Movin  Diarea  of  the 
War  in  the  Crymear,  komic  songs  and  the 
Cangeroo,  which  larst  little  cuss  continners 
to  konduct  hisself  in  the  most  outrajus 
stile.  I  started  out  with  the  idear  of  makin 
my  show  a  grate  Moral  Entertainment, 
but  I'm  kompeled  to  sware  so  much  at  that 
air  infurnal  Kangeroo  that  I'm  frade  this 
desine  will  be  flustratid  to  some  extent. 
And  while  speakin  of  morrality,  remines 
me  that  sum  folks  turn  up  their  nosis  at 
shows  like  mine,  sayin  they  is  low  and  not 
fit  to  be  patrernized  by  peple  of  high  de- 
[971 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

gree.  Sirs,  I  manetane  that  this  is  infernal 
nonsense.  I  manetane  that  wax  figgers  is 
more  elevatin  than  awl  the  plays  ever 
wroten.  Take  Shakespeer  for  instunse. 
Peple  think  heze  grate  things,  but  I  kon- 
tend  heze  quite  the  reverse  to  the  kon- 
trary.  What  sort  of  sense  is  thare  to  King 
Leer,  who  goze  round  cussin  his  darters, 
chawin  hay  and  throin  straw  at  folks,  and 
larfin  like  a  silly  old  koot  and  makin  a  ass 
of  hisself  ginerally?  Thare's  Mrs.  Mack- 
beth — sheze  a  nise  kind  of  woomon  to  have 
round  ain't  she,  a  puttin  old  Mack,  her 
husband,  up  to  slayin  Dunkan  with  a 
cheeze  knife,  while  heze  payin  a  frendly 
visit  to  their  house.  O  its  hily  morral,  I 
spoze,  when  she  larfs  wildly  and  sez,  "gin 
me  the  daggurs — He  let  his  bowels  out," 
or  wurds  to  that  effeck — I  say,  this  is  awl, 
strickly,  propper,  I  spoze?  That  Jack 
Fawlstarf  is  likewise  a  immoral  old  cuss, 
take  him  how  ye  may,  and  Hamlick  is  as 
crazy  as  a  loon.  Thare's  Richurd  the 
Three,  peple  think  heze  grate  things,  but 
[98] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

I  look  upon  him  in  the  lite  of  a  monkster. 
He  kills  everybody  he  takes  a  noshun  to 
in  kold  blud,  and  then  goze  to  sleep  in  his 
tent.  Bimeby  he  wakes  up  and  yells  for 
a  hoss  so  he  kan  go  orf  and  kill  sum  more 
peple.  If  he  isent  a  fit  spesserman  for  the 
gallers  then  I  shood  like  to  know  whare 
you  find  um.  Thare's  largo  who  is  more 
ornery  nor  pizun.  See  how  shameful  he 
treated  that  hily  respecterble  injun  gentle- 
mun,  Mister  Otheller,  makin  him  for  to 
beleeve  his  wife  was  too  thick  with  Casheo. 
Obsarve  how  largo  got  Casheo  drunk  as 
a  biled  owl  on  corn  whiskey  in  order  to 
karry  out  his  sneckin  desines.  See  how  he 
wurks  Mister  Otheller's  feelins  up  so  that 
he  goze  and  makes  poor  Desdemony  swal- 
ler  a  piller  which  cawses  her  deth.  But  I 
must  stop.  At  sum  futur  time  I  shall 
continner  my  remarks  on  the  drainmer  in 
which  I  shall  show  the  varst  supeeriority 
of  wax  figgers  and  snakes  over  theater 
plays,  in  a  interlectooal  pint  of  view. 
Very  Respectively  yures, 

A  WARD,  T.  K. 
[99] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

THE  SHAKERS 

The  Shakers  is  the  strangest  religious 
sex  I  ever  met.  I'd  hearn  tell  of  'em  and 
I'd  seen  'em,  with  their  broad  brim'd  hats 
and  long  wastid  coats;  but  I'd  never  cum 
into  immejit  contack  with  'em,  and  I'd  sot 
'em  down  as  lackin  intelleck,  as  I'd  never 
seen  'em  to  my  Show — leastways,  if  they 
cum  they  was  disgised  in  white  peple's 
close,  so  I  didn't  know  'em. 

But  in  the  Spring  of  18 — ,  I  got  swampt 
in  the  exterior  of  New  York  State,  one  dark 
and  stormy  night,  when  the  winds  Blue 
pityusly,  and  I  was  forced  to  tie  up  with 
the  Shakers. 

I  was  toilin  threw  the  mud,  when  in  the 
dim  vister  of  the  futer  I  obsarved  the 
gleams  of  a  taller  candle.  Tiein  a  hornet's 
nest  to  my  off  hoss's  tail  to  kinder  encour 
age  him,  I  soon  reached  the  place.  I 
knockt  at  the  door,  which  it  was  opened 
unto  me  by  a  tall,  slick-faced,  solum  lookin 
individooal,  who  turn'd  out  to  be  a  Elder. 
[100] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

"Mr.  Shaker,"  sed  I,  "you  see  before 
you  a  Babe  in  the  woods,  so  to  speak,  and 
he  axes  shelter  of  you." 

"Yay,"  sed  the  Shaker,  and  he  led  the 
way  into  the  house,  another  Shaker  bein 
sent  to  put  my  hosses  and  waggin  under 
kiver. 

A  solum  female,  lookin  sumwhat  like 
a  last  year's  bean-pole  stuck  into  a  long 
meal  bag,  cum  in  and  axed  me  was  I  a 
thurst  and  did  I  hunger?  to  which  I  ur 
banely  anserd  "a  few."  She  went  orf  and 
I  endeverd  to  open  a  conversashun  with 
the  old  man. 

"Elder,  Ispect?"sedl. 

"Yay,"  he  said. 

"Helth's  good,  I  reckon?" 

"Yay." 

"What's  the  wages  of  a  Elder,  when  he 
understans  his  bisness — or  do  you  devote 
your  sarvices  gratooitus?" 

"Yay." 

"Stormy  night,  sir." 

"Yay." 
8  [  101  ] 


>. :  « 

Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

"If  the  storm  continners  there'll  be  a 
mess  underfoot,  hay?" 

"Yay." 

"It's  onpleasant  when  there's  a  mess 
underfoot?" 

"Yay." 

"If  I  may  be  so  bold,  kind  sir,  what's 
the  price  of  that  pecooler  kind  of  weskit 
you  wear,  incloodin  trimmins?" 
•   "Yay!" 

I  pawsd  a  minit,  and  then,  thinkin  I'd 
be  faseshus  with  him  and  see  how  that 
would  go,  I  slapt  him  on  the  shoulder, 
bust  into  a  harty  larf,  and  told  him  that 
as  a  yayer  he  had  no  livin  ekal. 

He  jumpt  up  as  if  Billin  water  had  bin 
squirted  into  his  ears,  groaned,  rolled  his 
eyes  up  tords  the  sealin  and  sed:  "You're 
a  man  of  sin!"  He  then  walkt  out  of  the 
room. 

Jest  then  the  female  in  the  meal  bag 

stuck  her  hed  into  the  room  and  statid 

that  refreshments  awaited  the  weary  trav- 

ler,  and  I  sed  if  it  was  vittles  she  ment  the 

[102] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

weary  travler  was  agreeable,  and  I  follored 
her  into  the  next  room. 

I  sot  down  to  the  table  and  the  female 
in  the  meal  bag  pored  out  sum  tea.  She 
sed  nothin,  and  for  five  minutes  the  only 
live  thing  in  that  room  was  a  old  wooden 
clock,  which  tickt  in  a  subdood  and  bash 
ful  manner  in  the  corner.  This  dethly  still 
ness  made  me  oneasy,  and  I  determined 
to  talk  to  the  female  or  bust.  So  sez  I, 
"marrige  is  agin  your  rules,  I  bleeve, 
marm?" 

"Yay." 

"The  sexes  liv  strickly  apart,  I  spect?" 

"Yay." 

"It's  kinder  singler,"  sez  I,  puttin  on 
my  most  sweetest  look  and  speakin  in  a 
winnin  voice,  "that  so  fair  a  made  as  thow 
never  got  hitched  to  some  likely  feller." 
[N.  B. — She  was  upwards  of  40  and  homely 
as  a  stump  fence,  but  I  thawt  I'd  tickil  her.] 

"I  don't  like  men!"  she  sed,  very  short. 

"Wall,  I  dunno,"  sez  I,  "they're  a 
rayther  important  part  of  the  populashun. 
[103] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

I  don't  scacely  see  how  we  could  git  along 
without  'em." 

"Us  poor  wimin  folks  would  git  along 
a  grate  deal  better  if  there  was  no  men!" 

"You'll  excoos  me,  marm,  but  I  don't 
think  that  air  would  work.  It  wouldn't 
be  regler." 

"I'm  fraid  of  men!"  she  sed. 

"That's  onnecessary,  marm.  You  ain't 
in  no  danger.  Don't  fret  yourself  on  that 
pint." 

"Here  we're  shot  out  from  the  sinful 
world.  Here  all  is  peas.  Here  we  air 
brothers  and  sisters.  We  don't  marry 
and  consekently  we  hav  no  domestic  diffi 
culties.  Husbans  don't  abooze  their  wives 
— wives  don't  worrit  their  husbans. 
There's  no  children  here  to  worrit  us. 
Nothin  to  worrit  us  here.  No  wicked 
matrimony  here.  Would  thow  like  to  be 
a  Shaker?" 

"No,"  sez  I,  "it  ain't  my  stile." 

I  had  now  histed  in  as  big  a  load  of  per- 
vishuns  as  I  could  carry  comfortable,  and, 
[104] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

leanin  back  in  my  cheer,  commenst  pickin 
my  teeth  with  a  fork.  The  female  went 
out,  leavin  me  all  alone  with  the  clock.  I 
hadn't  sot  thar  long  before  the  Elder  poked 
his  hed  in  at  the  door.  "You're  a  man  of 
sin ! "  he  sed,  and  groaned  and  went  away. 

Directly  thar  cum  in  two  young  Shaker- 
esses,  as  putty  and  slick  lookin  gals  as  I 
ever  met.  It  is  troo  they  was  drest  in 
meal  bags  like  the  old  one  I'd  met  previsly, 
and  their  shiny,  silky  har  was  hid  from 
sight  by  long  white  caps,  sich  as  I  spose 
female  Josts  wear;  but  their  eyes  sparkled 
like  diminds,  their  cheeks  was  like  roses, 
and  they  was  charmin  enuff  to  make  a 
man  throw  stuns  at  his  granmother  if  they 
axed  him  to.  They  comenst  clearin  away 
the  dishes,  castin  shy  glances  at  me  all 
the  time.  I  got  excited.  I  forgot  Betsy 
Jane  hi  my  rapter,  and  sez  I,  "my  pretty 
dears,  how  air  you?" 

"We  air  well,"  they  solumnly  sed. 

"Whar's  the  old  man?"  sed  I,  in  a  soft 
voice. 

[105] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

"Of  whom  dost  thow  speak — Brother 
Uriah?" 

"I  mean  the  gay  and  festiv  cuss  who 
calls  me  a  man  of  sin.  Shouldn't  wonder 
if  his  name  was  Uriah." 

"He  has  retired." 

"Wall,  my  pretty  dears,"  sez  I,  "let's 
have  sum  fun.  Let's  play  puss  in  the 
corner.  What  say?" 

"Air  you  a  Shaker,  sir?"  they  axed. 

"Wall,  my  pretty  dears,  I  haven't 
arrayed  my  proud  form  in  a  long  weskit 
yit,  but  if  they  was  all  like  you  perhaps 
I'd  jine  'em.  As  it  is,  I'm  a  Shaker  pro- 
temporary." 

They  was  full  of  fun.  I  seed  that  at 
fust,  only  they  was  a  leetle  skeery.  I  tawt 
'em  Puss  in  the  corner  and  sich  like  plase, 
and  we  had  a  nice  time,  keepin  quiet  of 
course  so  the  old  man  shouldn't  hear. 
When  we  broke  up,  sez  I,  "my  pretty 
dears,  ear  I  go  you  hav  no  objections,  hav 
you,  to  a  innersent  kiss  at  partin?" 

"Yay,"  they  sed,  and  I  yay'd. 
[106] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

I  went  up  stairs  to  bed.  I  spose  I'd  bin 
snoozin  half  an  hour  when  I  was  woke  up 
by  a  noise  at  the  door.  I  sot  up  in  bed, 
leanin  on  my  elbers  and  rubbin  my  eyes, 
and  I  saw  the  follerin  picter:  The  Elder 
stood  in  the  doorway,  with  a  taller  candle 
in  his  hand.  He  hadn't  no  wearin  appeerel 
on  except  his  night  close,  which  flutterd 
in  the  breeze  like  a  Seseshun  flag.  He  sed, 
"You're  a  man  of  sin!"  then  groaned  and 
went  away. 

I  went  to  sleep  agin,  and  drempt  of 
runnin  orf  with  the  pretty  little  Shaker- 
esses  mounted  on  my  Calif orny  Bar.  I 
thawt  the  Bar  insisted  on  steerin  strate 
for  my  dooryard  in  Baldinsville  and  that 
Betsy  Jane  cum  out  and  giv  us  a  warm 
recepshun  with  a  panfull  of  Bilin  water. 
I  was  woke  up  arly  by  the  Elder.  He  sed 
refreshments  was  reddy  for  me  down 
stairs.  Then  say  in  I  was  a  man  of  sin,  he 
went  groanin  away. 

As  I  was  goin  threw  the  entry  to  the 
room  where  the  vittles  was,  I  cum  across 
[1071 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

the  Elder  and  the  old  female  I'd  met  the 
night  before,  and  what  d'ye  spose  they  was 
up  to?  Huggin  and  kissin  like  young  lov 
ers  in  their  gushingist  state.  Sez  I,  "my 
Shaker  frends,  I  reckon  you'd  better  sus 
pend  the  rules  and  git  married." 

"You  must  excoos  Brother  Uriah,"  sed 
the  female;  "he's  subjeck  to  fits  and 
hain't  got  no  command  over  hisself  when 
he's  into  'em." 

"Sartinly,"  sez  I,  "I've  bin  took  that 
way  myself  frequent." 

"You're  a  man  of  sin!"  sed  the  Elder. 

Arter  breakfust  my  little  Shaker  frends 
cum  in  agin  to  clear  away  the  dishes. 

"My  pretty  dears,"  sez  I,  "shall  we  yay 
agin?  " 

"Nay,"  they  sed,  and  I  nay*d. 

The  Shakers  axed  me  to  go  to  their 
meetin,  as  they  was  to  hav  sarvices  that 
mornin,  so  I  put  on  a  clean  biled  rag  and 
went.  The  meetin  house  was  as  neat  as 
a  pin.  The  floor  was  white  as  chalk  and 
smooth  as  glass.  The  Shakers  was  all  on 
[108] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

hand,  in  clean  weskits  and  meal  bags, 
ranged  on  the  floor  like  milingtery  com 
panies,  the  mails  on  one  side  of  the  room 
and  the  females  on  tother.  They  com- 
menst  clappin  their  hands  and  singin  and 
dancin.  They  danced  kinder  slow  at  fust, 
but  as  they  got  warmed  up  they  shaved  it 
down  very  brisk,  I  tell  you.  Elder  Uriah, 
in  particler,  exhiberted  a  right  smart 
chance  of  spryness  in  his  legs,  considerin 
his  time  of  life,  and  as  he  cum  a  dubble 
shuffle  near  where  I  sot,  I  rewarded  him 
with  a  approvin  smile  and  sed:  "Hunky 
boy!  Go  it,  my  gay  and  festiv  cuss!" 

"You're  a  man  of  sin!"  he  sed,  contin- 
nerin  his  shuffle. 

The  Sperret,  as  they  called  it,  then 
moved  a  short  fat  Shaker  to  say  a  few 
remarks.  He  sed  they  was  Shakers  and 
all  was  ekal.  They  was  the  purest  and 
Seleckest  peple  on  the  yearth.  Other  peple 
was  sinful  as  they  could  be,  but  Shakers 
was  all  right.  Shakers  was  all  goin  ker 
slap  to  the  Promist  Land,  and  nobody 
[1091 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

want  goin  to  stand  at  the  gate  to  bar  'em 
out,  if  they  did  they'd  git  run  over. 

The  Shakers  then  danced  and  sung  agin, 
and  arter  they  was  threw,  one  of  'em  axed 
me  what  I  thawt  of  it, 

Sez  I,  "What  duz  it  siggerfy?" 

"What?"sezhe. 

"Why  this  jumpin  up  and  singin?  This 
long  weskit  bizniss,  and  this  anty-matri- 
mony  idee?  My  f rends,  you  air  neat  and 
tidy.  Your  hands  is  flowin  with  milk  and 
honey.  Your  brooms  is  fine,  and  your 
apple  sass  is  honest.  When  a  man  buys 
a  keg  of  apple  sass  of  you  he  don't  find  a 
grate  many  shavins  under  a  few  layers  of 
sass — a  little  Game  I'm  sorry  to  say  sum 
of  my  New  Englan  ancesters  used  to  prac- 
tiss.  Your  garding  seeds  is  fine,  and  if  I 
should  sow  'em  on  the  rock  of  Gibralter 
probly  I  should  raise  a  good  mess  of  gar- 
ding  sass.  You  air  honest  in  your  dealins. 
You  air  quiet  and  don't  distarb  nobody. 
For  all  this  I  givs  you  credit.  But  your 
religion  is  small  pertaters,  I  must  say. 
[110] 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

You  mope  away  your  lives  here  in  single 
retchidness,  and  as  you  air  all  by  your 
selves  nothing  ever  conflicks  with  your 
pecooler  idees,  except  when  Human  Nater 
busts  out  among  you,  as  I  understan  she 
sumtimes  do.  [I  giv  Uriah  a  sly  wink  here, 
which  made  the  old  feller  squirm  like  a 
speared  Eel.]  You  wear  long  weskits  and 
long  faces,  and  lead  a  gloomy  life  indeed. 
No  children's  prattle  is  ever  hearn  around 
your  harthstuns — you  air  in  a  dreary  fog 
all  the  time,  and  you  treat  the  jolly  sun 
shine  of  life  as  tho'  it  was  a  thief,  drivin 
it  from  your  doors  by  them  weskits,  and 
meal  bags,  and  pecooler  noshuns  of  yourn. 
The  gals  among  you,  sum  of  which  air  as 
slick  pieces  of  caliker  as  I  ever  sot  eyes  on, 
air  syin  to  place  their  heds  agin  weskits 
which  kiver  honest,  manly  harts,  while 
you  old  heds  fool  yerselves  with  the  idee 
that  they  air  fulfillin  their  mishun  here, 
and  air  contented.  Here  you  air  all  pend 
up  by  yerselves,  talkin  about  the  sins  of  a 
world  you  don't  know  nothin  of.  Mean- 
[111] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

while  said  world  continners  to  resolve 
round  on  her  own  axeltree  onct  in  every 
24  hours,  subjeck  to  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,  and  is  a  very  plesant  place 
of  residence.  It's  a  unnatral,  onreasonable 
and  dismal  life  you're  leadin  here.  So  it 
strikes  me.  My  Shaker  frends,  I  now  bid 
you  a  welcome  adoo.  You  have  treated 
me  exceedin  well.  Thank  you  kindly,  one 
and  all. 

"A  base  exhibiter  of  depraved  mon 
keys  and  onprincipled  wax  works!"  sed 
Uriah. 

"Hello,  Uriah,"  sez  I,  "I'd  most  forgot 
you.  Wall,  look  out  for  them  fits  of  yourn, 
and  don't  catch  cold  and  die  in  the  flour 
of  your  youth  and  beauty." 

And  I  resoomed  my  jerney. 

HIGH-HANDED  OUTRAGE  AT  UTICA 

In  the  Faul  of  1856,  I  showed  my  show 
in  Utiky,  a  trooly  grate  sitty  in  the  State 
of  New  York. 

F1121 


Humor  in  the  Political  Situation 

The  people  gave  me  a  cordyal  recepshun. 
The  press  was  loud  in  her  prases. 

1  day  as  I  was  givin  a  descripshun  of  my 
Beests  and  Snaiks  in  my  usual  flowry  stile 
what  was  my  skorn  disgust  to  see  a  big 
burly  feller  walk  up  to  the  cage  containin 
my  wax  figgers  of  the  Lord's  Last  Supper, 
and  cease  Judas  Iscarrot  by  the  feet  and 
drag  him  out  on  the  ground.  He  then 
commenced  fur  to  pound  him  as  hard  as 
he  cood. 

"What  under  the  son  are  you  abowt?" 
cried  I. 

Sez  he,  "What  did  you  bring  this  pussy- 
lanermus  cuss  here  fur?"  and  he  hit  the 
wax  figger  another  tremenjis  blow  on  the 
hed. 

Sez  I,  "You  egrejus  ass,  that  air's  a 
wax  figger — a  representashun  of  the  false 
Tostle." 

Sez  he,  "That's  all  very  well  for  you  to 

say,  but  I  tell  you,  old  man,  that  Judas 

Iscarrot  can't  show  hisself  in  Utiky  with 

impunerty  by  a  darn  site!"  with  which 

[113] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

observashun  he  kaved  in  Judassis  hed. 
The  young  man  belonged  to  1  of  the  first 
famerlies  in  Utiky.  I  sood  him,  and  the 
Joory  brawt  in  a  verdick  of  Arson  in  the 
3d  degree. 


Chapter  VII:    Why  Lincoln 
Loved  Laughter 

ONLY  once  in  the  course  of  our  long 
and  rambling  conversation  did 
Lincoln  refer  to  the  war.  That 
was  when  he  asked  me  how  the  soldiers' 
spirits  were  keeping  up.  He  said  he  had 
been  giving  out  so  much  cheer  to  the  gen 
erals  and  Congressmen  that  he  had  pumped 
himself  dry  and  must  take  in  a  new  supply 
from  some  source  at  once.  He  declared 
that  his  "ear  bones  ached"  to  hear  a  good 
peal  of  honest  laughter.  It  was  difficult, 
he  said,  to  laugh  in  any  acceptable  manner 
when  soldiers  were  dying  and  widows 
weeping,  but  he  must  laugh  soon  even  if 
he  had  to  go  down  cellar  to  do  it.  He 
asked  me  if  I  had  thought  how  sacred  a 
thing  was  a  loving  smile,  and  how  impor 
tant  it  often  was  to  laugh.  Then  he  told 
[115] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

how  some  Union  officers  in  reconnoitering 
had  heard  the  Confederates  laughing  loudly 
over  a  game,  and  returned  cast  down  with 
fear  of  some  sudden  and  successful  at 
tack  by  the  cheerful  enemy.  That 
laughter  actually  postponed  a  great 
battle  for  which  the  Union  soldiers  had 
been  prepared. 

When,  as  I  later  ascertained,  I  had  been 
with  the  President  for  almost  two  hours, 
he  suddenly  straightened  up  in  his  chair, 
remarked  that  he  "felt  much  better  now," 
and  with  a  friendly  but  firm,  "Good  morn 
ing,"  turned  back  to  the  papers  before  him 
on  the  table.  This  sounds  abrupt  as  it  is 
told,  but  there  was  a  homeliness  and  sim 
plicity  about  everything  Lincoln  did  which 
robbed  the  action  of  any  suspicion  of  dis 
courtesy.  One  does  not  shake  hands  with 
a  member  of  his  own  family  on  merely 
quitting  a  room,  and  I  felt  that  a  ceremo 
nious  dismissal  would  have  been  equally 
uncalled  for  in  this  case.  Perhaps  I  really 
should  say  that  is  the  way  I  feel  now;  at 
[116] 


Why  Lincoln  Loved  Laughter 

the  time  I  did  not  think  of  the  matter  at 
all  because  what  was  done  seemed  per 
fectly  natural  and  proper. 

In  the  anteroom  the  crowd  was  greater, 
if  anything,  than  when  I  had  gone  in. 
Among  those  callers  there  were  certain  to 
be  some  who  would  bring  trouble  and 
vexation  aplenty  to  the  President.  It 
was  in  preparation  for  this  that  he  had 
been  resting  himself,  like  a  boxer  between 
the  rounds  of  a  bout.  One  would  make 
a  great  error  by  supposing  that  Lincoln's 
normal  manner  was  that  which  he  had 
exhibited  to  me.  He  could  be  soft  and 
tender-hearted  as  any  woman,  but  within 
that  kindly  nature  there  lay  gigantic 
strength  and  the  capacity  for  the  most 
decisive  action.  He  could  speak  slowly 
and  weigh  his  words  when  occasion  de 
manded,  but  his  usual  manner  was  vigor 
ous  and  prompt — so  much  so  that  at  times 
his  speech  had  a  quality  which  might 
fairly  be  described  as  explosive. 

This    was    because    he    always    knew 

9  [  117  ] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

exactly  what  he  wanted  to  say.  He 
thought  out  each  problem  to  the  end  and 
decided  it;  then  he  left  that  and  did  not 
trouble  his  mind  about  it  any  more,  but 
took  up  something  else.  This  habit  of 
disciplined  thinking  gave  him  a  great  ad 
vantage  over  most  people,  who  mix  their 
thinking  and  try  to  carry  on  a  dozen  men 
tal  processes  all  at  once. 

Lincoln  realized  the  importance  of  men 
tal  discipline  and  he  gave  to  humor  a  high 
place  as  an  aid  to  its  attainment.  I  have 
already  told  how,  in  discussing  Artemus 
Ward  with  me,  he  said  Ward  was  really 
an  educator,  for  he  understood  that  the 
purpose  of  education  was  to  discipline  the 
mind,  to  enable  a  man  to  think  quickly 
and  accurately  in  all  circumstances  of  life. 
I  hope  the  reader  will  bear  with  me  if  I 
repeat  some  of  the  points  which  Lincoln 
made  then,  because  they  show  so  clearly 
why  he  valued  humor.  Lincoln  said  that 
much  of  Ward's  humor  was  of  the  educa 
tional  sort.  It  aroused  intellectual  activ- 
['  118  1 


Why  Lincoln  Loved  Laughter 

ity  of  the  finest  kind,  and  he  mentioned 
Ward's  constant  use  of  riddles  as  an  illus 
tration.  Then  he  spoke  of  the  ancient 
Samson  riddle  and  the  fables  of  JSsop, 
and  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  they 
employed  a  joke  to  train  the  mind  by  the 
study  of  keen  satire.  He  said  Ward  was 
like  that.  It  seems  that  Tad  came  to 
Ward  at  the  table  one  day  after  he  had 
heard  somewhere  a  joke  about  Adam  in 
Eden.  So  he  said  to  Mr.  Ward,  "How 
did  Adam  get  out  of  Eden?" 

Ward  had  never  heard  the  conundrum 
and  did  not  give  the  answer  Tad  expected, 
but  he  had  one  of  his  own,  for  he  exclaimed 
"Adam  was  'snaked'  out."  It  took  Tad 
some  little  time  to  fathom  this  reply  and 
gave  him  some  splendid  mental  exercise. 
Mr.  Lincoln  said  he  did  not  see  why  they 
did  not  have  a  course  of  humor  in  the 
schools.  It  was  characteristic  of  his  great 
modesty  that  whenever  he  referred  to 
school  or  to  college  Lincoln  always  tried 
to  limit  himself  by  saying  that,  as  he  did 
[1191 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

not  know  what  they  did  learn  there,  he 
was  not  an  authority  on  the  subject,  but 
that  such-and-such  a  thing  was  just  "his 
notion." 

If  discipline  was  a  subjective  purpose  in 
Lincoln's  use  of  humor,  it  may  be  said  with 
equal  certainty  that  the  illustrative  power 
of  a  well-told  story  was  the  principal  objec 
tive  use  to  which  he  put  it.  Lincoln  seems 
never  to  have  told  a  story  simply  to  relate 
it;  everyone  he  told  had  an  application 
aside  from  the  story  itself.  There  is  some 
thing  profoundly  elemental  about  this;  it 
is  like  the  use  of  the  parable  in  the  teach 
ings  of  Christ. 

Astute  minds,  capable  of  grasping  the 
meaning  of  facts  without  illustration, 
sometimes  resented  this  habit  of  the  Presi 
dent's;  some  of  the  sharpest  criticism,  as 
might  be  expected,  came  from  within  the 
Cabinet  itself;  but  there  can  certainly  be 
no  just  foundation  for  the  statement  that 
Lincoln  detained  a  full  session  of  the 
Cabinet  to  read  them  two  chapters  in 
[120] 


Why  Lincoln  Loved  Laughter 

Arternus  Ward's  book.  He  was  not  friv 
olous  or  shallow.  His  reverence  for  great 
men,  for  great  thoughts,  and  for  great 
occasions  was  most  sensitively  acute.  He 
recognized  the  fact  that  "brevity  is  the 
soul  of  wit,"  and  would  not  have  done 
more  than  use  a  condensed  and  brief  ref 
erence  to  Ward,  at  most.  We  know  that 
on  another  occasion  he  made  most  effective 
use  at  a  Cabinet  meeting  of  Ward's  bur 
lesque  on  Shaw  patriotism  when  he  quoted 
Ward  as  saying  that  he  "was  willing,  if 
need  be,  to  sacrifice  all  his  wife's  relations 
for  his  country." 

An  even  better  example  of  the  Presi 
dent's  use  of  humor  is  the  following  story 
which  he  once  told  to  illustrate  the  military 
situation  existing  at  the  time.  A  bull  was 
chasing  a  farmer  around  a  tree.  The  farm 
er  finally  got  hold  of  the  bull's  tail,  and 
both  started  off  across  the  field.  The 
farmer  could  not  let  go  for  fear  he  would 
fall  and  break  his  head,  but  he  called  out 
to  the  bull,  "Who  started  this  mess,  any- 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

way?"  Lincoln  said  he  had  gotten  hold 
of  the  bull  by  the  tail  and  that  while  the 
Confederacy  was  running  away  he  dared 
not  let  go.  This  summed  up  the  situation 
in  a  way  the  whole  country  could  under 
stand. 

It  is  an  interesting  fact,  and  one  not 
generally  known,  that  Lincoln  committed 
almost  every  good  story  he  heard  to  writ 
ing.  If  his  old  notebooks  could  be  found 
they  would  make  a  wonderful  volume,  but, 
unfortunately,  they  have  never  come  to 
light.  Perhaps  he  felt  ashamed  of  them, 
as  he  did  of  his  rough  draft  of  the  Gettys 
burg  address,  which  he  had  scribbled  on 
the  margin  of  a  newspaper  in  the  morn 
ing  while  riding  to  Gettysburg  on  the 
train. 

There  was  one  source  of  Lincoln's  humor 
— and  perhaps  it  was  the  chief  one — which 
flowed  from  the  very  bedrock  of  his  nature. 
That  was  the  desire  to  bring  cheer  to  oth 
ers.  When  he  was  passing  through  the 
very  Valley  of  the  Shadow  after  the  tragic 


Why  Lincoln  Loved  Laughter 

end  of  the  single  love  affair  of  his  youth  a 
true  friend  told  him  that  he  had  no  right 
to  look  so  glum — that  it  "was  his  solemn 
duty  to  be  cheerful,"  to  cheer  up  others. 
Young  Abe  took  the  lesson  to  heart,  and 
he  never  forgot  it.  Incidentally,  it  was 
the  means  of  restoring  him  to  health  and 
probably  of  preserving  his  sanity — as  the 
old  saint  who  gave  him  the  lecture  no 
doubt  intended  that  it  should. 

In  their  common  experience  of  an  awful 
grief  and  in  their  ability  to  rise  above  its 
devastation  purged  of  selfishness  and  de 
voted  to  a  career  of  service,  each  accord 
ing  to  his  own  gifts,  Abraham  Lincoln  and 
Charles  Farrar  Browne  had  followed  the 
same  path,  and  it  was  from  this  that  there 
sprang  that  deep  and  true  bond  of 
sympathy  between  the  two  men  which 
mystified  so  many  even  of  those  who 
considered  themselves  Lincoln's  intimates. 
Where  another  saw  but  the  cap  and  bells, 
Lincoln  saw  and  reverenced  the  tortured, 
struggling  soul  within. 
[123] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

During  our  memorable  talk  on  that 
December  day  in  1864  when  the  cares  of 
state  were  pressing  so  sorely  upon  him, 
the  President  told  me  that  he  was  greatly 
relieved  in  times  of  personal  distress  by 
trying  to  cheer  up  somebody  else.  He 
spoke  of  it  as  being  both  selfish  and  un 
selfish.  He  said  he  had  been  accused  of 
telling  thousands  of  stories  he  had  never 
heard  of,  but  that  he  told  stories  to  cheer 
the  downhearted  and  tried  to  remember 
stories  that  were  cheerful  to  relate  to  peo 
ple  in  discouraged  circumstances.  He 
reminded  me  that  his  first  practice  of  the 
law  was  among  very  poor  people.  He 
tried  to  tell  stories  to  his  clients  who  were 
discouraged,  to  give  them  courage,  and  he 
found  the  habit  grew  upon  him  until  he 
had  to  "draw  in"  and  decline  to  use  so 
many  stories. 

Bob  Burdett,  writing  for  the  Burlington 
Hawkeye  shortly  after  the  President's  death 
on  April  15, 1865,  said  that  Abraham  Lin- 

[1*4] 
v 


Why  Lincoln  Loved  Laughter 

coin's  humorous  anecdotes  would  soon  die, 
but  that  Lincoln's  humor,  like  John 
Brown's  soul,  would  be  ever  "marching 
on."  No  printed  story  which  he  told  ever 
expressed  the  soul  of  Lincoln  fully.  His 
own  partial  description  of  humor  as  "that 
indefinable,  intangible  grace  of  spirit,"  is 
not  to  be  found  exemplified  in  his  pub 
lished  speeches.  It  is  in  the  spirit  which 
animated  them  rather  than  in  the  works 
themselves  that  we  must  look  for  the  vital 
principle  of  Lincoln's  humorous  sayings. 

To  attempt  the  analysis  of  humor  is  as 
if  a  philosopher  should  try  to  put  a  glance 
of  love  into  a  geometrical  diagram  or  the 
soul  of  music  into  a  plaster  cast.  No  one 
by  searching  can  find  it  and  no  one  by 
labor  can  secure  it.  Yet  so  simple,  so 
homely,  and  withal  so  shrewd  was  the 
humor  of  Abraham  Lincoln  that  one  can 
easily  picture  him  turning  over  in  his  mind 
the  words  of  his  favorite  quotation  from 
the  "Merchant  of  Venice" — one  of  the 
few  classical  quotations  he  ever  used — 
[125] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

while  he  reflected,  half  sadly,  upon  the 
cynicism  and  pettiness  of  mankind: 

"Nature  hath  framed  strange  fellows  in  her  time, 
Some  that  will  evermore  peep  through  their  eyes 
And  laugh  like  parrots  at  a  bagpiper; 
And  others  of  such  vinegar  aspect 
That  they'll  not  show  their  teeth  in  way  of  smile 
Though  Nestor  swear  the  jest  be  laughable.** 


Chapter  VIII:    Lincoln  and 
John  Brown 

"f  I  1HIS  is  my  friend!"  said  Lincoln, 
as  he  suddenly  turned  to  a  pile 
•^  of  books  beside  him  and  grasped 
a  Japanese  vase  containing  a  large  open 
pond  lily.  Some  horticultural  admirer, 
knowing  Lincoln's  love  for  that  special 
flower,  had  sent  in  from  his  greenhouse  a 
specimen  of  the  Castilia  odorata.  The 
President  put  his  left  arm  affectionately 
around  the  vase  as  he  inclined  his  head  to 
the  lily  and  drew  in  the  unequaled  fra 
grance  with  a  long,  deep  breath. 

"I  have  never  had  the  time  to  study 
flowers  as  I  often  wished  to  do,"  he  said. 
"But  for  some  strange  reason  I  am  capti 
vated  by  the  pond  lily.  It  may  be  because 
some  one  told  me  that  my  mother  admired 
them." 

[127] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

Sitting  at  this  desk  now,  looking  out  on 
the  Berkshire  Hills  and  living  over  in 
memory  that  visit  to  the  White  House,  I 
see  again  the  tableau  of  the  President  look 
ing  down  into  the  face  of  that  glorious 
flower.  He  hugged  the  vase  closer  and 
repeated  tenderly,  "This  is  my  friend!" 

In  reverie  and  in  dreams  I  have  medi 
tated  long,  searching  for  some  satisfactory 
reason  why  that  particular  bloom  was 
Lincoln's  dear  friend.  Yet  the  reason, 
whatever  it  may  be,  matters  not  so  much 
as  the  fact.  Lincoln  loved  the  lily  and 
called  it  his  friend.  No  mere  sensuous 
admiration  of  beauty,  this,  but  a  deep 
sense  of  its  spiritual  significance.  By  its 
perfection  the  lily  achieved  personality, 
and  that  personality,  so  simple,  so  pure, 
so  exquisite,  struck  a  responsive  chord  in 
the  heart  of  this  man  whom  his  cultured 
contemporaries  called  uncouth!  On  the 
plane  of  the  spirit  they  met  as  friends. 

Great  gifts  have  their  price.  From  Lin 
coln's  sensitive  tenderness  sprang  the  suf- 
[128] 


Lincoln  and  John  Brown 

fering  which  he  bore,  both  in  his  early  life 
and  during  the  living  martyrdom  of  his 
years  in  the  White  House.  But  as  if  to 
offset  somewhat  this  terrible  burden  was 
added  the  divine  gift  of  humor. 

It  has  been  often  remarked  that  humor 
and  pathos  are  closely  akin.  The  greatest 
humorists  are  also  the  greatest  masters 
of  pathos.  Perhaps  Mark  Twain's  great 
est  work  was  his  Joan  of  Arc,  which  is 
almost  wholly  sad,  a  study  in  pathos,  while 
The  Gilded  Age  makes  its  readers  weep  and 
laugh  by  turns. 

As  in  the  expression  so  also  in  the  source. 
When  Lincoln  with  tender  emphasis  said 
to  me  that  Artemus  Ward's  humor  was 
largely  "the  result  of  a  broken  heart,"  he 
was  but  stating  the  law  of  nature  that 
deep  sorrow  is  as  essential  to  humor  as 
winter  snows  are  to  the  bloom  of  spring. 
Charles  Lamb's  many  griefs,  and  especially 
his  sorrow  over  his  insane  sister,  were  the 
black  soil  from  which  his  genius  grew. 

Many  of  Josh  Billings's  ludicrous  say- 
[129] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

ings  were  misspelled  through  his  tears. 
The  traceable  outlines  of  tragedies  in  the 
early  lives  of  writers  like  Bret  Harte, 
Mark  Twain,  Bob  Burdette,  and  Nasby 
testify  to  the  rule  that  a  sad  night  some 
where  precedes  the  dawn  of  pure  wit  and 
inspiring  humor. 

Burton  in  his  Anatomy  of  Melancholy 
said,  "If  there  is  a  hell  on  earth,  it  is  to 
be  found  in  the  melancholy  man's  heart." 
But  James  Whitcomb  Riley  said  that  "wit 
in  luxuriant  growth  is  ever  the  product  of 
soil  richly  fertilized  by  sorrow."  As  for 
Lincoln,  his  first  love  died  of  a  broken 
heart;  he  lived  on  with  one. 

"Cheer  up,  Abe!  Cheer  up!"  was  the 
hourly  advice  of  the  sympathetic  pioneers 
among  whom  he  lived.  But  the  sorrowing 
stranger  was,  after  all,  friendless,  and  he 
could  not  cheer  up  alone.  He  was  an 
orphan,  homeless;  he  had  no  sister,  no 
brother,  no  wife  to  soothe,  advise,  or  caress 
him.  The  floods  of  sorrow  had  swallowed 
him  up  and  he  struggled  alone.  Few,  in- 
[130] 


Lincoln  and  John  Brown 

deed,  are  the  men  or  women  who  have 
descended  so  deep  and  endured  to  remem 
ber  it. 

Down  into  the  darkness  came  faint 
voices  saying  over  and  over,  "Cheer  up, 
Abe!"  If  he  could  muster  the  courage  to 
do  as  they  said,  he  would  be  saved  from 
death  or  the  insane  asylum,  which  is  more 
dreaded  than  the  grave.  Nothing  but 
cheer  could  be  of  any  use. 

One  dear  old  saint  told  him  to  remember 
that  his  sweetheart's  soul  was  not  dead, 
and  that  she,  undoubtedly,  wished  him 
to  complete  his  law  studies  and  to  make 
himself  a  strong,  good  man.  "For  her 
sake,  go  on  with  life  and  fill  the  years  with 
good  deeds!" 

Years  afterward  he  must  have  thought 
of  that  when,  in  the  dark  days  of  General 
McClelland's  failures,  he  urged  the  soldiers 
to  "cheer  up  and  thus  become  invincible." 
Mr.  Lincoln,  in  1863,  when  speaking  of  his 
regard  for  the  Bible,  said  that  once  he  read 
the  Bible  half  through  carefully  to  find  a 
[131] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

quotation  which  he  saw  first  in  a  scrap  of 
newspaper,  which  declared,  "A  merry 
heart  doeth  good  like  a  medicine."  That 
must  have  been  done  in  those  sad  days 
when  the  darkness  was  still  upon  him. 

How  little  has  the  world  yet  appreciated 
the  important  maxim  given  to  those  who 
seek  success,  "to  smile  and  smile,  and  smile 
again."  It  is  a  very  practical  and  a  very 
useful  direction.  But  it  may  be  a  hypo 
critical  camouflage  when  it  has  no  impor 
tant  reflex  influence  on  the  man  himself. 

The  same  idea  was  expressed  with  seri 
ous  emphasis  by  Lincoln  in  1858,  when  he 
urged  the  teachers  of  Keokuk,  Iowa,  to  let 
the  children  laugh.  He  said  that  a  hearty, 
natural  laugh  would  cure  many  ills  of  man 
kind,  whether  those  ills  were  physical, 
mental,  or  moral.  The  truth  and  useful 
ness  of  that  statement  it  has  taken  science 
and  religion  more  than  a  half  century  to 
accept.  Now  the  study  of  good  cheer  is 
one  of  the  major  sciences.  Some  psycholo 
gists  contend  that  laughter  is  one  of  the 
[132] 


Lincoln  and  John  Brown 

greatest  aids  to  digestion  and  is  highly 
conducive  to  health;  therefore,  Huf eland, 
physician  to  the  King  of  Prussia,  com 
mended  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients,  who 
maintained  a  jester  who  was  always  pres 
ent  at  their  meals  and  whose  quips  and 
cranks  would  keep  the  table  in  a  roar. 

It  was  an  important  declaration  made 
by  the  humorous  "Bob"  Burdette,  when 
he  said  that  an  old  physician  of  Bellevue 
Hospital  had  assured  him  that  a  cheerful 
priest  who  visited  the  hospital  daily  "had 
cured  more  patients  by  his  laughter  than 
had  any  physician  with  his  prescriptions." 
Burdette  rated  himself,  in  his  uses  of  fun, 
as  the  "oiler-up  of  human  machinery"; 
and  good  cheer  and  righteousness  fol 
lowed  him  closely,  keeping  ever  within 
the  sound  of  his  voice.  The  life-giving, 
invigorating  spirit  of  good  cheer  made 
Abraham  Lincoln's  great  mind  clearer 
and  held  him  to  his  faith  that  right 
makes  might,  and  that  night  is  but  the 
vestibule  of  morning. 
10  1 133  ] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

If  Lincoln  was  the  founder,  as  many 
believe,  of  the  "modern  school  of  good 
cheer,"  he  was  a  mighty  benefactor  of  the 
human  race.  The  idea  of  healing  by  sug 
gestion,  by  hopeful  influences,  and  by  faith 
has  given  rise  to  many  societies,  schools, 
churches,  and  healers,  all  having  for  their 
basic  principle  the  healthful  stimulation  of 
the  weak  body  by  the  use  of  faith — that 
is  to  say,  cheer.  Innumerable  cases  of  the 
prevention  of  insanity,  and  some  cases  of 
the  complete  restoration  of  hopeless  luna 
tics,  by  laughter  and  fresh  confidence  are 
now  known  to  the  medical  profession. 
One  draught  of  deep,  hearty  laughter  has 
been  known  to  effect  an  immediate  cure 
of  such  nervous  disorders,  especially  neu 
ralgia,  hysteria,  and  insomnia.  The  doc 
tor  who  smiles  sincerely  is  two  doctors  in 
one.  He  heals  through  the  body  and  he 
heals  through  the  mind. 

When  this  teaching  is  applied  to  the 
eradication  of  immorality  or  the  defeat  of 
religious  errors  we  are  reminded  of  Lin- 
[134] 


Lincoln  and  John  Brown 

coin's  remark  that  "the  devil  cannot  bear 
a  good  joke."  That  martyr  is  not  going 
to  recant  who,  on  his  way  to  the  scaffold, 
can  smile  as  he  pats  the  head  of  a  child. 
The  believer  in  the  assertion  that  "all 
things  work  together  for  good  to  those 
who  love  God"  can  laugh  at  difficulties, 
and  he  will  be  heard  and  followed  by  a 
throng.  Spurgeon  said  that  "a  good  joke 
hurled  at  the  devil  and  his  angels  is  like 
a  bursting  bomb  of  Greek  fire."  Ridicule 
with  laughter  the  hypocrite  or  evil  schemer, 
and  he  will  crouch  at  your  feet  or  fly  into 
self-destructive  passion;  but  ridicule  Abra 
ham  Lincoln  and  he  lifts  his  clenched  hand 
and  smiles  while  he  strikes.  The  cartoon 
ist  ever  defeats  the  orator.  People  dance 
only  under  the  impulse  of  cheerful  music. 
These  thoughts  are  recorded  here  because 
they  were  suggested  by  Abraham  Lincoln 
and  because  they  furnish  a  very  satisfac 
tory  reason  why  Lincoln  laughed. 

The  tales  of  Lincoln's  droll  stories  and 
perpetual    fun    making    before    he    was 
[135] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

twenty-four  years  old  seem  to  have  no 
trustworthy  foundation.  His  use  of  humor 
as  a  duty  and  as  a  weapon  in  debate  first 
appears  distinctly  about  the  year  1836, 
when  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar.  He  was 
almost  unnoticed  in  the  legislature  until  he 
secured  sufficient  confidence  to  use  side 
splitting  jokes  in  the  defeat  of  the  oppon 
ents  of  righteousness.  As  paradoxical  as 
it  first  may  seem,  joking,  with  Lincoln, 
was  a  serious  matter.  He  had  been  saved 
by  good  cheer,  and  he  was  conscientiously 
determined  to  save  others  by  the  use  of 
that  same  potent  force. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  humanizing 
effect  of  his  homely  humor  was  what  gave 
Lincoln  a  place  in  the  hearts  of  mankind 
such  as  few  others  have  ever  held.  One 
man  whom  I  knew  intimately  in  my  boy 
hood  days  was  as  devoted  and  as  high 
minded,  probably,  as  anyone  who  ever 
lived.  He  had  a  great  influence  upon  the 
events  of  his  day;  some  people  regarded 
him  as  almost  a  saint — or  at  least  a 
[136] 


Lincoln  and  John  Brown 

prophet.  Yet  he  never  captured  the  heart 
of  the  people  as  Abraham  Lincoln  did, 
and  to-day  he  is  virtually  forgotten.  That 
man  was  John  Brown. 

When  I  had  my  long  interview  with 
President  Lincoln  in  the  winter  of  1864 
I  told  him  that  John  Brown  had  been  for 
a  number  of  years  in  partnership  with  my 
father  in  the  wool  business  at  Springfield, 
Massachusetts,  and  that  he  was  a  frequent 
and  intimate  caller  at  our  house.  He  and 
my  father  were  closely  associated  in  the 
antislavery  movement  and  in  the  operation 
of  the  "underground  railway"  by  which 
fugitive  blacks  were  spirited  across  the  line 
into  Canada.  The  idea  of  a  slave  uprising 
in  Virginia  was  discussed  at  our  dinner 
table  again  and  again  for  years  before  the 
Harper's  Ferry  raid  finally  took  place;  and 
it  is  altogether  probable  that  my  father 
would  have  shared  Brown's  martyrdom  if 
my  mother's  persistent  opposition  had  not 
defeated  his  natural  inclination. 

John  Brown  had  a  summer  place  in  the 
[137] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

Adirondacks,  and  when  he  left  there  a 
man  remained  behind  in  the  old  cabin  to 
help  the  slaves  escape.  This  was  not  the 
route  usually  followed,  however.  Most  of 
the  fugitives  came  up  from  Virginia  to 
Philadelphia,  from  Philadelphia  to  New 
York,  New  York  to  Hartford,  and  thence 
over  the  line  into  Canada.  My  father's 
branch  of  the  "underground  railway"  ran 
from  Springfield  to  Bellows  Falls.  It  was 
a  common  thing  for  our  woodshed  to  be 
filled  with  negroes  whom  my  father  would 
guide  at  the  first  opportunity  to  the  next 
"station."  This  was  very  risky  work;  its 
alarms  darkened  my  boyhood  and  filled 
our  days  with  fears. 

Lincoln  was  very  much  interested  that 
day  in  what  I  told  him  about  John  Brown. 
He  asked  me  many  questions,  but  I  soon 
saw  that  there  was  very  little  he  did  not 
know  about  the  subject.  Finally  I  told 
him  that  while  my  father  shared  John 
Brown's  opinions,  my  mother  thought  he 
was  a  kind  of  monomaniac  and  frequently 
[138] 


Lincoln  and  John  Brown 

said  so.    At  this  Lincoln  laughed  heartily, 
but  he  made  no  verbal  comment. 

Nobody  could  be  more  earnest  or  sincere 
than  Lincoln,  but  he  could  laugh;  John 
Brown  could  not.  My  earliest  impression, 
as  a  little  boy,  of  John  Brown,  was  that 
he  might  be  one  of  the  old  prophets;  he 
made  me  think  of  Isaiah.  He  was  tall  and 
thin;  he  wore  a  long  beard  and  was  always 
very,  very  serious.  He  hardly  ever  told 
a  joke.  John  Brown's  part  in  the  business 
partnership  was  to  sell  the  wool  which  my 
father  bought  from  the  farmers  in  the  sur 
rounding  territory.  So  Brown  was  the 
man  in  the  office,  with  time  and  oppor 
tunity  for  study  and  planning,  while  my 
father  was  out  in  the  open,  dealing  with 
other  men.  Until  they  became  involved 
so  deeply  in  the  antislavery  movement  the 
wool  business  prospered;  the  fact  was  that 
my  father  trusted  Brown's  business  judg 
ment  as  being  pretty  good.  But  in  the 
end  they  gave  up  everything  in  the  way  of 
business  of  any  sort.  My  father  was  a 
[139] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

Methodist,  but  I  do  not  remember  hearing 
that  John  Brown  belonged  to  any  church. 
The  liberation  of  the  slaves  obsessed  his 
mind  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  thoughts 
and  interests. 

Brown  used  to  drive  over  to  our  house 
two  or  three  times  a  week.  It  was  a  thirty- 
mile  drive  from  Springfield,  so  he  had 
always  to  spend  the  night. 

I  have  kept  the  latch  of  the  door  to  his 
room — the  room  which  he  always  occu 
pied.  How  many  times  he  raised  that 
latch  in  passing  in  and  out! 

I  was  a  little  chap  then  and  used  often 
to  sit  on  his  knee  and  listen  to  his  stories 
told  in  that  solemn,  deep  voice,  which  lent 
a  mysterious  dignity  to  the  most  unim 
portant  tale. 

When  evening  came  and  dinner  was  over 
and  the  womenfolk  were  busy  outside, 
Brown  and  my  father  would  pull  up  their 
chairs  to  the  dining  table,  on  which  a  big 
lamp  had  been  set,  and  talk  long  and 
earnestly — sometimes  far  into  the  night 
[140] 


Lincoln  and  John  Brown 

— while  they  pored  over  maps  and  lists 
and  memoranda.  Often  I  would  wake  up, 
when  it  seemed  that  morning  must  be 
almost  at  hand,  and  hear  John  Brown's 
low,  even-toned  voice  speaking  words 
which  were  to  me  without  meaning. 

Next  morning,  after  an  early  breakfast, 
he  would  harness  his  horse  to  the  buggy, 
if  one  of  us  boys  had  not  already  done  it 
for  him,  and  start  on  the  lonely  drive 
back  to  Springfield. 

Brown  and  my  father  had  accurate 
knowledge  of  many  facts  which  might  con 
tribute  to  the  success  of  a  slave  uprising 
in  Virginia.  They  knew  how  many  plan 
tations  there  were  and  how  many  negroes 
were  owned  in  each  county — also  the  num 
ber  of  whites.  Brown  knew  the  names  of 
the  owners  of  the  plantations  and  the 
means  of  reaching  the  plantations  by  un 
frequented  ways.  He  had  talked  this  over 
with  my  father  for  years.  William  Lloyd 
Garrison  told  him  it  was  a  very  foolish 
enterprise  that  he  contemplated,  and  was 
[141] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

opposed  to  it,  although  he  was  Brown's 
int  mate  friend.- 

It  is  a  significant  and  a  not  generally 
known  fact  that  John  Brown  actually 
believed  his  insurrection  would  succeed; 
but  whether  it  would  or  not,  he  was 
determined  sooner  or  later  to  make  the 
attempt.  He  said,  "If  I  die  that  way,  I 
will  do  more  good  than  by  living  on;  and, 
anyhow,  I  will  do  it  whether  it  succeeds 
or  not." 

The  last  time  I  saw  John  Brown  was 
when  he  drove  out  to  our  house  before 
leaving  Springfield  to  go  to  Harper's  Ferry. 
My  father  drove  him  down  to  the  station 
— to  Huntingdon  railroad  station;  they 
called  it  Chester  Village  then,  but  the  name 
has  since  been  changed.  The  last  letter 
that  he  wrote  from  the  prison  at  Charles 
ton  was  to  my  father.  It  was  written  the 
day  before  his  execution. 

John  Brown's  character  was  perfectly 
suited  to  the  part  he  elected  to  play,  and 
that  this  had  a  potent  influence  upon  peo- 
[142] 


Lincoln  and  John  Brown 

pie's  minds  and  through  them  upon  events 
leading  up  to  the  war  cannot  be  denied. 
A  less  austere  man  or  a  man  less  firm  in 
his  own  convictions  would  never  have  car 
ried  through  such  a  mad  exploit.  But  it 
is  not  a  desecration  of  John  Brown's  mem 
ory  to  state  the  simple  fact  that  he  lacked 
the  quality  of  human  understanding  which 
Lincoln  possessed  so  richly  and  which 
showed  itself  in  the  smile  of  sympathy  and 
the  word  of  good  cheer. 

Before  I  left  Washington  to  go  back  to 
my  regiment  I  learned  that  the  friend  for 
whose  life  I  had  gone  to  plead  had  been 
pardoned  by  the  President.  The  hearty 
greeting  which  hailed  the  return  of  that 
young  soldier  to  his  comrades  was  full  of 
spontaneous  joy,  but  in  the  background 
of  the  picture  was  the  great  form  of  Old 
Abe,  the  greatest  saint  in  the  calendar  of 
all  the  soldiers. 

He  was  indeed,  as  has  been  often  said 
before,  the  best  friend  of  the  whole  coun- 
[1431 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

try — the  South  as  well  as  the  North. 
Through  all  of  that  bitter  struggle  he  never 
forgot  that  he  had  been  elected  President 
of  all  the  United  States. 

When  I  had  a  second  long  talk  with  Lin 
coln,  just  shortly  before  he  was  murdered, 
not  one  word  did  he  say  against  the  South 
or  against  the  generals  of  the  South.  He 
spoke  of  General  Lee  always  in  respectful 
terms.  He  respected  the  Southern  army 
and  the  Southern  people,  and  he  estimated 
them  for  just  about  what  they  were  worth. 
He  did  not  underestimate  their  power  nor 
their  patriotism;  not  a  word  in  that  two 
hours'  interview  did  he  say  against  the 
Southern  army  or  the  Southern  people 
vindictively;  it  was  that  of  a  calm  states 
man  who  estimated  them  for  what  they 
were  worth;  and  whenever  he  mentioned 
the  name  of  General  Lee  he  emphasized 
the  fact  that  Lee  was  fighting  that  war  on 
a  high  principle,  not  one  of  vindictiveness 
or  any  small  ambition. 

He  realized  that  the  Southern  people 
[144] 


Lincoln  and  John  Brown 

were  fighting  for  what  they  believed  was 
right,  and  he  knew  General  Lee  would  not 
be  in  it  unless  he  was  convinced  it  was 
right.  He  did  not  say  that  in  words,  but 
that  is  the  impression  I  received.  To  hear 
the  stories  of  Southern  barbarities  which 
would  naturally  be  circulated  about  the 
enemy  and  then  to  find  the  President  of 
the  United  States  treating  the  matter  with 
such  dignity  and  calmness  was  a  surprise 
and  an  enlightenment  to  me. 

On  that  black  day  when  the  body  of 
Abraham  Lincoln  lay  in  state  in  the  East 
Room  of  the  White  House  it  was  my  great 
privilege  to  be  detailed  for  duty  there.  I 
happened  to  be  in  Washington,  recovering 
from  a  wound  sustained  in  the  battle  of 
Kenesaw  Mountain  a  short  time  before, 
and  I  was  called  upon,  together  with  all 
unattached  officers  in  the  Capitol,  to  help 
out.  About  twenty  officers  were  con 
tinually  on  duty  in  the  room  in  which  the 
casket  stood.  Two  of  us  actually  stood 
guard  at  a  time — one  at  the  head  and  one 
[145] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

at  the  foot.  The  casket  was  heaped  high 
with  flowers  and  the  people  passed  through 
the  room  in  an  unending  stream. 

No  such  grief  was  ever  known  on  this 
continent.  All  wept,  strong,  hardened  war 
riors  with  the  rest.  People  were  heartily 
ashamed  when  their  supply  of  tears  ran  out. 
Some  trembled  as  they  passed  through  the 
door,  and,  once  outside  the  room,  gave 
vent  to  their  sorrow  in  groans  and  shrieks, 
while  others,  in  the  excess  of  their  grief, 
cursed  God,  as  though  Lincoln's  death  was 
an  unjust  punishment  of  him  instead  of  a 
glorious  crown  of  martyrdom. 

Looking  back  through  fifty -four  years — 
after  the  calm  judgment  of  sages  has  re 
asserted  their  wisdom  and  after  all  Lin 
coln's  enemies  have  turned  to  devoted 
friends — we  cannot  forbear  the  renewed 
assertion  that  Abraham  Lincoln  was  in 
some  special  way  unlike  other  men.  That 
unusual  power  of  inspiration  was  exhibited 
in  his  words  and  acts  almost  every  day  of 
his  closing  years. 

[146] 


Lincoln  and  John  Brown 

Through  the  half  century  there  comes 
down  to  us  a  wonderful  sentence  in  Lin 
coln's  second  inaugural  address  which  is 
incarnate  with  vigorous  life.  Out  of  the 
smoke,  devastation,  hate,  and  death  of  a 
gigantic  fratricidal  war,  above  the  con 
tentions  of  parties,  jealous  commanders, 
and  grief-benumbed  mourners,  clear  and 
certain  as  a  trumpet  call  this  unlooked-for 
declaration  rang  out.  It  was  the  voice  of 
God: 

With  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all, 
with  firmness  in  the  right  as  God  gives  us  to  see 
the  right,  let  us  strive  on  to  finish  the  work  we  are 
in,  to  bind  up  the  Nation's  wounds,  to  care  for  him 
who  shall  have  borne  the  battle  and  for  his  widow 
and  his  orphans,  to  do  all  which  may  achieve  and 
cherish  a  just  and  lasting  peace  among  ourselves 
and  with  all  nations. 

What  a  Christian  spirit,  what  a  defer 
ence  to  God,  what  a  determined  purpose 
for  good!  What  a  basis  for  peace  among 
the  nations  was  there  stated  in  one  single 
sentence!  Where  in  the  writings  of  the 
gifted  geniuses,  ancient  or  modern,  is 
[147] 


Why  Lincoln  Laughed 

another  one  so  potent.  Yet  the  mere  dead 
words  are  not  specially  symmetrical,  and 
the  expression  is  in  the  language  of  the 
common  people.  The  influence  is  that  of 
the  spirit;  it  can  never  die. 

His  enemies  mourned  when  he  died  and 
and  all  the  world  said  a  great  soul  had 
departed.  But  the  children  of  his  dear 
heart  and  brain  will  live  on  the  earth  for 
ever.  They  will  pray  and  teach  and  sac 
rifice  and  fight  on  until  all  nations  shall 
be  the  one  human  family  which  the 
prophet  Lincoln  so  clearly  foresaw.  Men 
are  called  to  special  work.  Men  are  more 
divine  than  material;  and  among  the  most 
trustworthy  proofs  of  this  intuitive  truth 
is  the  continuing  force  of  the  personality 
of  Abraham  Lincoln. 


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